Harry Potter and the Dark Lord's Equal
by ACI100
Summary: Ever since his defeat of Grindelwald in 1945 and even before, Albus Dumbledore has been the Lord of the Light, and the leader of the opposition against any who oppose the peace. As natural selection goes however, Dumbledore's time on top is running out, as a new beacon of hope approaches, one who is equally as good as Dumbledore, and possibly even greater. Good Dumbledore All Years
1. TSR Ch 1: A Different Beginning

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.**

* * *

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story.**

* * *

**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Authors Note 1:**

**So, a very different story as opposed to what I normally write. I figured as I've done so many Slytherin Harry stories, I'd show the other side some love. Also, I just kind of wanted to write a more competent Gryffindor Harry, but one that is not going to turn into a Dark Lord. **

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**Authors Note 2:**

**Sorry this took so long to come out; I've been extremely busy this summer. **

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**Authors Note 3:**

**I'm going to try and keep Harry somewhat close to his canon character, but there will definitely be differences. More realistically, I'm going for a sort of cross between him and his father with some additional traits that neither of them really ever posessed, so we'll see what happens. The story will be somewhat AU, but I won't be changing much before the actual story begins; anything I do change will be explained later on.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.**

**The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.**

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 1: A Different Beginning.**

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**June 23rd 1991.**

**Number 4. Privet Drive.**

**7:05 AM.**

Knock knock knock!

That was the first sound that could be heard by a small, raven haired ten year old boy. Harry Potter was sharply woken from his uneasy slumber, groggily throwing the thin, beat up sheet he used to sleep with off to the side. Yawning, he clumsily fumbled for his glasses with one hand, while the other tried in vain to remove the sleep from his eyes.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Harry groaned as he roughly jammed his glasses onto his face, glasses that had been broken so long ago he couldn't remember how it had been done; no doubt an escapade of his cousin and his gang.

"Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.

His aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly." said Harry.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Harry groaned.

"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing…"

Dudley's birthday — how could he have forgotten? Harry slowly got out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.

Reluctantly, Harry slowly pushed the door to his cupboard open, leaving the comfort of sleep behind him; or, at least whatever passed for comfort in the sad life that he led.

The kitchen table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise — unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it for as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

Don't ask questions — that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way — all over the place.

Harry was frying eggs as usual by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel — Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

'Brat.' Thought Harry, doing everything in his power to not scowl at his whale of a cousin as he had the audacity to complain about the mountain of gifts laid out in front of him.

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then." said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over. Aunt Petunia obviously sensed danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that alright?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work, Harry wasn't quite sure if he was capable of the task. Finally he said slowly. "So I'll have thirty… thirty…"

Again, Harry had to hide his reaction, though this time it would have been a snicker rather than a smile.

"Thirty-nine, sweetums." Aunt Petunia offered.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

'Yeah," thought Harry, 'because he could tell the difference between a pound and a pence.'

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon." she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head in Harry's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's ears perked up, though he didn't dare to truly get his hopes up. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

"We could phone Marge..." Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."

The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there — or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend — Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca." snapped Aunt Petunia

Harry wanted to put in, at that moment, that the Dursleys could simply leave him at the house. If they truly didn't want his company, which was fine by him, then surely the sensible thing was to do what most normal families did and simply leave him behind. But for all of the Dursleys delusions of normality, Harry knew they weren't. Normal people would not treat a child the way the Dursleys treated him, this was something he knew to be true. It was a byproduct of that belief that stopped Harry from voicing his suggestion, as he knew that it would not be received well, and though his uncle currently seemed in a fairly good mood, Harry knew from experience that he could make that change very quickly, simply by uttering the most ordinary and reasonable of statements.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly. "… and leave him in the car…"

"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone…"

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying — it had been years since he'd really cried — but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

'Typical.' Thought Harry, dreading the worst that the Dursleys were sure to come up with.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I… don't… want… him… t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp-spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang — "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically — and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and pinning him up against the wall, glaring down at him with a near murderous glint in his eye as he spoke.

"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's. "I'm warning you now, boy — any funny business, anything at all — and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"I'm not going to do anything," said Harry. "honestly…"

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls). The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.

On the other hand, he'd received one of the worst beatings he could remember from Uncle Vernon for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.

Harry wanted to believe that today nothing would go wrong, but he was not foolish enough to believe it. These odd things had always happened at the weirdest of times, and they were almost never something Harry had managed to control; well, he thought he may have had some measure of control over his hair, but he did not understand what that was, or how it had happened, and therefore had little chance of controlling whatever kept happening to him now.

Uncle Vernon complained loudly to Aunt Petunia and Harry only half listened, tuning in and out of both his own thoughts and the conversation taking place in front of him. He caught something about motorbikes before his thoughts wandered back to the dream he had been rudely awoken from by his Aunt Petunia. He could not remember it well, as often seemed to be the case with Harry and his dreams, but he quite vividly remembered something about a flying motorbike on a cold fall night.

For a moment, Harry imagined Vernon and Petunia's reactions if he were to confess this dream aloud. He figured they, as well as Uncle Vernon's brand new car would likely find themselves in a ditch seconds after the proclamation. The Dursleys had never tolerated Harry's imagination, no matter how obscure or impossible the things were that he imagined. On the contrary, they seemed to take it as a personal insult the more obscure and impossible things were that he imagined. He also knew that his "it was a dream" excuse would not placate them, as far better explanations had failed in the past.

So instead he simply thought on his dream, and more particularly, attempted to remember its contents. He couldn't, but this did not surprise him. The same thing had been happening for years, though the contents of those dreams were far less pleasant, and always the same; always managing to leave him rather uneasy when he awoke, often drenched in a cold sweat he could not explain. These dreams usually consisted of a women's scream and a blinding flash of green light, followed by an excruciating pain from his forehead, around the place his scar resided, that would always wake him. For years he had thought this to be some sort of flashback to the car crash that had claimed the lives of his parents, but now he wasn't so sure. He could not imagine where the green light had come from, unless it was smoke and he had hit his head so hard in the car crash he simply remembered it as green light? But he doubted it, as the theory of trauma compromising his memory was one that he had been proving wrong for years. Harry had a stellar memory: one of his teachers had even got as far as to call it near eidetic.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.

Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time, though in truth, that wasn't saying much; but he would happily accept small miracles. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first.

Most boys in his position would have internally gloated, or praised their lucky stars, but not Harry. Harry had always had a keen sense for danger, or in more realistic terms, a sick sense for trouble, and his senses were doing far more than tingling, they were screaming at him, warning him of the oncoming storm that he somehow knew to be fast approaching.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can — but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again!" Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring." Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself — no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.

It winked.

Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:

"I get that all the time."

"**I know," **Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "**It must be really annoying."**

The snake nodded vigorously.

"**Where do you come from, anyway?"** Harry asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.

_Boa Constrictor, Brazil._

"**Was it nice there?"**

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: _This specimen was bred in the zoo. _ "Oh, I see — so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror. The glass had vanished from off of the display, and in a blur of motion, the snake had lunged forward, sinking its fangs into Dudley's shoulder causing him to scream in complete agony as the serpent pulled away, fangs now tinged with blood as it slithered past the fallen boy and his companion, making for the exit as it used everyone's panic as an ideal distraction.

As it slithered past Harry on it's way to the exit, Harry could have swore he made out the faintest trace of a hiss directed at him from the serpent. "**Thanks, Amigo."**

But Harry had no time to ponder that, for as he looked on the fallen, bloody form of his cousin he knew one thing and one thing only, soon, very soon he was going to have hell to pay.

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In a corner of the zoo, watching the action unfold with very different outlooks were two individuals. Two individuals who had gone to the zoo together for the day, in search of something to pass the time that day.

The first was a tall, broad shouldered man with dark hair and eyes. He was quite old, but didn't appear it. He looked as if he were an athletic man in his late 30's, when in reality he was several decades passed that point in his life. As this man looked upon the creatures in the zoo, it was with mainly indifference, as if he were partaking in an essential task that had to be completed.

The boy standing to his side was, in many ways, a stark contrast to his older escort. Where the other man was old and well built, this boy was young and not built quite so favourably. He was perhaps an inch or two taller than the average for his age, with pale skin, a bit of pudge and a round, kind face. Unlike his escort, this boy watched the zoo exhibits with great interest, relishing the chance to see creatures that until now, had been unknown to him.

When the glass vanished on a large exhibit constraining what the tag described to be a Brazilian Boa Constrictor, their reactions were quite different as well. The older man's eyes widened as he examined the room, his eyes sharpening when they spotted a small boy on the floor. As he saw the serpent take a chunk out of the arm of a much larger boy, he couldn't help but give a soft chuckle, not really caring one way or another about the state of the muggle boy.

His companion however, had a very different reaction. He felt not only horror at the snake's escape, but pity for the boy who had been bitten. The one similarity between their takes however, is that like the older man, this boys eyes focused on the boy on the floor, and though he could not explain it, he felt a sort of connection to the boy on the ground, almost like the feeling one felt when they saw someone they knew they had met before, but couldn't place who they were or where they had met.

"Come on son," said the older man, "it's time we get you out of here. Shouldn't be here when all hell breaks loose."

The boy wanted to argue, but he knew it would not end favourably for him if he did, his uncle would never actually hurt him, but the sharp remarks he would receive at his hand was enough of a deterrent for the round faced boy to bite back his protest and choose a far more diplomatic response. "Yes, Uncle Algie." He said, following the older man out of the zoo.

"Good lad." His uncle responded, and as he seized hold of Neville Longbottom's arm, turning on the spot and vanishing into nothing, the older man missed the fact that his nephew's eyes had not once left the raven haired boy who had lay prone on the floor. Nor had he noticed Neville's eyes widen in shock as he had seen a vivid mark on the boy's forehead; a mark that was known by every child in their world.

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Harry had endured many long nights under the not so tender care of his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon over the years. However, the night of Dudley's eleventh birthday was perhaps the worst in living memory.

He did get a brief reprieve, as he was simply dropped off at the house while his aunt and uncle accompanied Dudley to the hospital; clearly more concerned with the health of their son as opposed to the punishment they would lay upon their nephew.

Or so Harry had thought, later upon reflection, he had come to the conclusion that his uncle had spent the time thinking of all of the ways he could punish Harry.

He knew he was in trouble when the front door opened, but even he could never have guessed the extent.

For the next hour, Harry faded in and out of consciousness several times, his cries falling on deaf ears as he was punched, kicked, stomped on, and physically thrown across the room. After a long time and what Harry later learned to be a large number of physical injuries, Harry could vaguely feel himself being roughly thrown over his uncles shoulder and thrown somewhere cramped and uncomfortable. In his haze of pain and confusion, it took Harry several minutes to realize that he was in the trunk of Uncle Vernon's new car.

They drove for what to Harry seemed like an eternity. Every bump in the road did no favours for what he was sure to be broken ribs, and he was fairly certain that his uncle was doing his absolute best to hit every single bump possible without damaging his priceless car.

At long last, after coming back to consciousness for the umpteenth time in the last god only knew how long, the car came to a stop. Before Harry could wonder where they were or what they were doing there, the trunk was ripped open, and Harry cried out in pain and surprise as his uncle roughly threw him over one shoulder again and began marching him across the street on which they had parked.

Harry had just enough time to wonder what his uncle was doing when he was no longer on a shoulder, he was sailing through the air, and before that had any time to register, he hit the ground with a sickening crack, causing him to cry out again, which only intensified the pain in his ribs. On top of that, he barely made a sound, as all the air had been knocked from his lungs moments earlier.

He had just enough time to hear Vernon's triumphant humph before he heard wheels screech, and he didn't need to look up to know what had happened; Vernon Dursley had beaten him to the door of death and left him out to die. Of all the horrible things the Dursleys had done to Harry over the years, this had to take the cake.

Just as Harry could feel the blackness closing in, he could have sworn he felt thin arms wrap around him, as he was pulled into a suffocating vortex right before losing consciousness, his only thought being that death had come to claim him.

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**Authors Endnote:**

**Ok, so for those of you who haven't figured out what just happened, I will not spoil it, but I will tell you this. No, Harry obviously did not die, and he is still very much alive. **

**As far as uploads go for this story, I am thinking once every two weeks should do. I could probably do once a week in the summer, but I doubt I could maintain it during the school year, and I don't want to have to promise something and then scale it back later. **


	2. TSR Ch 2: Impossibilities

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.**

* * *

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story.**

* * *

**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

* * *

**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.**

**The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.**

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal.**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 2: Impossibilities. **

* * *

**June 24th 1991.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**2:53 PM.**

Harry did not know how long it was until he next opened his eyes, but he had a very strong suspicion that it had been awhile. His body was stiff, as if he had not moved in a very long time, though he supposed that also could have been a byproduct of the beating he had received at the hands of his uncle.

This feeling of stiffness however, as well as mild soreness in his ribs alerted him to one impossible truth. He was still alive.

He did not know how, as he had quite literally been beaten to the brink of death and left in a ditch off of a country road to die, but miraculously he hadn't. He was alive. Even stranger, if possible, Harry did not feel as if he were laying in a ditch. In fact, he thought that the surface on which he now lay was the most comfortable thing he had ever laid on. He suspected it was a hospital bed, as that was the only logical solution that immediately came to his mind, but if that were the case, he must have ended up in a rather wealthy hospital.

Slowly and somewhat reluctantly, Harry opened his eyes, allowing his consciousness to fully drift to the land of the living once more. He actually let a soft gasp escape him when he took in his surroundings, skewed as they were by the lack of glasses on his face. He could make out the dim outline of a room, though it was clearly no hospital room. For one, it was far too large to belong to a hospital, and for two, the furnishings were far too lavish, almost excessively so. He could also make out a very large window, that actually served as one of the walls, and though he couldn't tell with his poor vision, Harry guessed by its position that it overlooked the grounds of this place, possibly even led out onto a balcony, though he currently had no way of confirming that suspicion.

A second later, Harry was caught off guard by a soft gasp near his bed. The noise caused him to spin as quickly as he could to face the source of the sound, but the motion only caused him to wince rather horribly.

"Hoskins." He heard someone say, and a second later Harry heard a loud CRACK resonate through the room.

"Master Neville be calling upon Hoskins, sir?" Asked someone who had a rather odd voice, it sounded to Harry as if it were slightly higher than normal.

"Yes, Hoskins." Answered the first voice calmly. "Can you please go tell Gran that he's awake?"

"Of course, Master Neville." Responded the second, and then, seconds later there was another loud CRACK, and the room fell silent once more.

Harry reached absentmindedly around, trying to find his glasses. A second later he heard movement again, and soon after that he felt them being pressed into his hands. "Thanks." He muttered, putting them on and instantly bringing the immaculate room into focus. The room was large as Harry had known, very, very large. One of the walls, as Harry had made out, was entirely made of glass, and seemed to include a sliding door that exited onto a balcony overlooking a stunning view. It seemed as if wherever they were placed it was in the heart of a meadow, with rolling green fields stretching out in every direction, with tall, imposing woods in the distance.

Harry took his eyes off of the breathtaking view and allowed himself to scan his more immediate surroundings. Again, the room was huge, the carpet was red, and seemed to be trimmed in black. There was a door leading out of the room, but there was another door situated near a massive walk-in closet, one that Harry assumed led to an attachment of the room, likely to a restroom if he had to guess.

Harry couldn't help but simultaneously wonder and marvel at his situation. Marvel, for the first time in many years, at his fortune, and wonder how he had got here, and if this was all one elaborate trick played by fate, and if it would secretly turn out that whoever owned this house were just as cruel as Vernon and Petunia Dursley.

Harry doubted it very much though, as his internal danger sense was currently dormant, replaced with a content, safe feeling that felt foreign to the raven haired youth, who finally turned his eyes off of the immaculate decor and onto the boy beside his bed.

The boy was sitting in a comfortable looking plush armchair and was dressed, to Harry's bewilderment, not in a shirt, or sweater, but in robes; robes of deepest red, with a crest emblazoned beside his chest. The crest contained two crossed silver swords, one encrusted with vivid rubies, and the other with stunning sapphires. Above both swords, dominating the crest was a helmet. The helmet was black in colour, trimmed in gold with golden horns protruding from the top. The immaculate horns however, were stained with what was unmistakably blood.

Before Harry could ask the boy about the rather vivid imagery adorned upon his odd choice of outfit, the door opened and an older woman entered. The woman carried a certain presence about her, a confident and powerful aura that could not be taught. She was tall and thin, with dark brown, almost black eyes and sharp features. When her gaze landed upon Harry however, it softened considerably.

"Hello there ,young man. You gave us all quite the scare. Is it safe to assume that you are in fact Harry Potter?"

Harry blinked, completely taken aback by the question. She said his name with a great deal of importance that Harry could not mentally justify. Hell, he couldn't justify her even knowing his name, let alone the emphasis she chose to put on it. Tentatively, Harry responded as politely as possible. "Yes ma'am, my name is Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you, and… uh, don't take this the wrong way, but what am I doing here? And how did I get here?"

Rather than being offended by his presumptuous questions as some would be in her position, Augusta Longbottom simply nodded approvingly at Harry before taking a long, dark stick out of her pocket and waving it in front of her, looking rather foolish in Harry's opinion. That was until, a second later, another comfortable armchair much like the one the other boy was using appeared out of thin air in front of the woman, and she took a seat, tucking away the stick as she looked at Harry's gobsmacked expression with a look of mild surprise, mixed with a great deal of pity and something Harry recognized all too well, outrage.

"You don't know?" She asked softly, her voice an odd mix of fury and sympathy. "You know nothing of where you came from? You know nothing of our world? Of magic?"

"Magic?" Harry breathed, eyeing the chair that hadn't been there a few seconds earlier.

"That is answer enough." She said, definitely sounding more on the furious side now. Harry looked apprehensively at her as the other boy visibly flinched away from her, but her next look at Harry put him at ease, as it was one of only sympathies. "Well, Harry, I suppose I'll start with your first question."

* * *

**Flashback**

* * *

**June 23rd, 1991.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**3:46 PM.**

Augusta Longbottom was looking through a large pile of papers on her desk when she heard a rather hesitatant knock on the door to her study. "Enter." She said, already knowing the identity of her would be companion as her grandson pushed open the door. "Hello, Neville," she greeted. "did you enjoy your time at the zoo with your uncle?"

"It was great until the end, Gran." Said Neville, though despite the positive nature of his statement, Augusta sensed the negative emotions swirling within her grandson.

"What happened?" Asked Augusta, growing suspicious of her brother, thinking he may have done something foolish yet again.

"Well, me and Uncle Algie were looking at the exhibits when there was a commotion. I looked over and saw a boy on the floor, with another bigger boy standing over him… but the glass, it was gone. The glass on the exhibit I mean, and the exhibit was of a huge snake. A boa constrictor I think it said."

"And this bothered you?" Asked Augusta, shooting the Longbottom heir an inquisitive glance from over her mountain of paperwork.

"Well, not really, but then something else happened." He hesitated. "The snake bit the bigger boy, the one who I think had knocked down the smaller one on the ground, and it was horrible. But that wasn't it, Gran; the smaller boy, his clothes were horrible, they were like rags, he had broken glasses, and… well I don't know, I just know something is seriously wrong with him, and judging by the look on his guardian's face, at least I think that's who he was, the boy is gonna be hurt when they get home."

Augusta scowled, child abuse was never something she had been able to put up with, and the mere idea of such a horrid act disgusted her. Despite that though, she could not for the life of her figure out what Neville's obsession was with this case. Her grandson was many things, and some of them she did not approve of, but if nothing else, he was certainly kind hearted; sometimes Augusta thought he was too kind hearted for his own good, this was one such case.

"Neville," she said gently. "it's horrible that this boy is being neglected and potentially abused, but there's nothing to do about it, and we can't just go around saving muggles."

"He wasn't a muggle." Neville said quietly, remembering the outline he had made out on the boys forehead. Neville did not consider himself the brightest boy alive, but he had never been more sure of anything in his entire life.

"What's that?" Asked Augusta sharply. "How on earth would you know that, Neville?"

"Because," he said softly, the determination in his voice catching his grandmother entirely off guard as he looked up into her eyes, a fire burning within them that the older woman had never seen there before. "it was Harry Potter."

* * *

**June 23rd 1991.**

**A Ditch on The Side of A Road.**

**11:34 PM.**

It had been a rather long day for Augusta Longbottom since the revelation made hours before by her grandson. For one thing, she had to be sure that it really was Harry Potter, and that took a rather extensive review of his memory in their family's Pensive. That however, had turned out to be the easy part, as the next part came with far more difficulty. How to track down Harry Potter?

The boy's location had been a tight lipped secret ever since the fall of Voldemort nearly ten years previous. Augusta had tried to weasel the information out of people over the years, as she was certain that she should raise the boy. After all, Alice was listed as his godmother, and Frank as his secondary godfather in wake of Sirius Black being unable to fulfill the duty; she knew that bit was only because of the fact that Remus Lupin was unsuitable for the role, but it still didn't change the fact. Her search had been fruitless though, fruitless for years; finally a lead had popped up today.

It had taken a great deal of work, and a well done Confundus charm by Augusta to get all of the records of people who had checked into the zoo that day. It had taken several more Confundus charms to gain access to the records of everyone's photo ID who had entered the zoo that day. After those charms had been cast however, and after a gargantuan amount of paperwork, Augusta had managed to locate the man who had seemingly been Harry's guardian. Vernon Dursley. It was not difficult to find his address, but to Augusta's horror she was too late.

As soon as she reached the place, the muggle's car was already pulling out of the driveway, and she had a sneaking suspicion from the look on his face he was not alone. Fortunately for her, the tracking charm was an easy one to cast, and she had it on his car in no time. Now, nearly an hour later, the car had finally stopped moving and Augusta had immediately apparated straight to the location.

What she saw now made her blood run cold. The large man, Dursley, was hauling the boy over one shoulder and he was an absolute mess; a very bloody, broken mess at that. Before she could do so much as step forward to stop him, the man had forcibly thrown the small boy into the ditch and was quickly making his way back to his muggle contraption.

Augusta wanted so badly to curse him, she wanted nothing more at that moment, but as she glanced at the boy in the ditch, she realized she had far more pressing matters on her hands, as the boy needed her attention far more than the muggle. Swearing vengeance on the man and his entire family under her breath, and meaning every word of it, Augusta quickly strode over to the fallen boy, gently wrapped her arms around him and turned on the spot, bringing them both back to her, and his new home.

* * *

**End Flashback.**

* * *

**June 24th, 1991.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**3:15 PM.**

Harry stared dumbfoundedly up at the woman in front of him as she finished her tale. The use of magic baffled him, as to his knowledge, the mere concept of magic was no more than a myth. But here in front of him was what he considered proof that this notion was wrong; after all, had she not just made a chair appear out of thin air? With a wave of what was now clearly a wand! Despite his awe over magic however, it was not the most baffling thing about the story to Harry, and he had one question above all else.

"Why?" He asked her, absolutely stunned that she would go through all of that trouble to save a boy she didn't know. "And how do you know who I am? Or how did you know who I was?"

"I was very close with both your grandparents on your father's side, Harry." Explained Augusta softly, looking at him with a softer expression than she had used thus far. "I knew your parents, too, though admittedly not as well. Though my son Frank spoke very highly of both of them."

"So you helped me because you knew my parents?"

"Yes." Augusta answered, staring him dead in the eye, as if daring him not to believe her. He couldn't, and the raw emotion and determination that he saw in the old woman's eyes was enough to convince him that she was telling the truth; though it still left one question unanswered.

"But how did Neville know who I was?" Harry asked, another thought creeping into his mind. "And your son spoke highly of my parents? My aunt and uncle said they were bums, and that my father got them killed in a car crash while dr-"

"WHAT?!" Exploded Augusta, leaping to her feet at that last proclamation, causing the other boy… Neville, to jump. For several moments she paced back and forwards, taking long, deep, calming breaths in order to control her unquenchable fury. After several long moments and a gesture to Neville to leave the room, something the boy promptly did, she spoke, and her voice was one of measured calm. "Harry, I am going to explain, I am going to explain everything to you, and it is going to come as an unbelievable surprise, but I promise you I am telling the truth. You may ask questions, but please do not interrupt me. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, his eyes widening as he realized a second before she said it what had happened. The Dursleys had not only denied him information about his parents, they had downright lied about them.

"I will start from the beginning; you, Harry, as is the case with my son, Neville, and countless young boys around the world, are a wizard." For several long, painful moments Harry sat there, jaw agape, absolutely flabbergasted by the information that had been presented to him.

"I'm a what?" He breathed, disbelief evident in every syllable.

"A wizard, Harry." Augusta said kindly, looking into his eyes once again. Seeing that the young boy was about to protest, she cut him off. "Come now, Harry Is it really that hard to believe? Have you never made anything happen that you could not explain? Likely when feeling strong emotions? Anger, ecstasy, or fear?"

For a moment Harry was going to deny it, but he paused. Hadn't that been the story of his life for the past number of years? The jumper shrinking, his hair growing, his sudden ability to fly onto the school roof, and most recently the snake? He found that upon further consideration, as unbelievable as all of it seemed, he believed her. He looked up at her, a look of awe on his face.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Augusta could not help but smile at Harry. "I see that you understand now, and are accepting the truth for what it is. Very good, there is hope for you yet. Now, your mother and father were a witch and a wizard, and they attended Hogwarts together. Hogwarts is the premiere school of magical education in Great Britain. They were two of the brightest students of the time, your mother was often called the brightest witch of her age. They were head boy and girl together in their final year, and after graduating they got married."

At this, Augusta's face darkened. "Sadly, they never had time to enjoy it." Upon seeing Harry's questioning look, and noticing that he was desperately hanging on her every word, she continued. "There was a man, a wizard who had decided he wanted power. And he wanted all of it. He was a bigot, and believed that muggles, non magical people that is to say, should be exterminated, as well as their children, whether they were magical or not. It's a long story, but this is a philosophy that has been shared by a portion of our population for centuries. At any rate, this man, he took advantage of that philosophy and convinced a lot of witches and wizards to follow him. And follow him they did. He was one of the two most powerful wizards alive, the other being Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and leader of the opposition against this madman. His army was impressive as well, and they worked from the shadows. Things went downhill quickly. He was taking over and it was blatantly obvious that the Ministry of Magic, our government, would fall." She paused and sighed. "And then he fell."

"How?" Breathed Harry, transfixed on the woman in front of him as his voice came out in little more than a whisper.

"You." Augusta answered sadly, though Harry did not miss a note of pride in her voice, the emotion familiar only to him because of the way Vernon and Petunia often spoke to their son Dudley.

"What?" Asked Harry, confused even more so now.

"The reason Neville knew your name Harry is because every man, woman and child in our world knows your name." She sighed, suddenly looking every bit her age as she spoke once more. "This man wanted your parents to join him I imagine, that's never been confirmed or not, but they were damn gifted with a wand and he wanted everyone he could get. My assumption has always been that they turned him down. So, he went for the next best thing and decided to get them out of the way." As she spoke this last bit, her voice became darker, almost a snarl as she solicited a gasp from Harry. "On Samhain night, Halloween for muggles, this man found where you, your mother and your father lived, and he attacked." She looked at him sadly once more. "You have to understand, Harry, your parents were gifted beyond their years, but once this bastard decided to kill someone, unless your name was Albus Dumbledore, you stood no chance." She eyed him very carefully. "Until you."

Before Harry could ask any questions, she held up a hand and continued. "The bastard attacked your home, he killed both of your parents and I guess he wanted the set, because the next thing he tried to do is kill you." Here, she took a deep breath, her eyes closed as she spoke her next words. "But he couldn't do it."

"What?" Asked Harry, in shock at all of it, and failing to understand how someone so powerful couldn't kill a baby.

"I can't explain it, nobody can. But something about you was too much for him. There is a curse called the killing curse, and it does exactly what it says. It kills. There is no way of blocking it, no way of countering it, and if it so much as touches you, you die. But not you." She said softly, stepping forward to stand right in front of Harry, her voice taking on that tone of pride once more. "The curse didn't work on you. When he tried to kill you with it, the only thing that happened was his own destruction. Some say he's dead, some say his power has only broken and he's biding his time. Personally, I don't know what to believe, but I wouldn't discount either theory. But either way, the reason you are so famous Harry is because of this. You did the impossible, you survived the killing curse and defeated the wizard who was so horrible that most people are still afraid to speak his name."

"What was his name?" Asked Harry, clinging onto something, anything to ask of her in this moment, trying to ground himself as his brain spun at a million miles an hour.

"I do not like saying it much myself." She admitted with a scowl. "Though for very different reasons, I don't fear him, and I'll never call him You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or Merlin forbid, The Dark Lord, as many cowards refer to him as. No, I just don't like talking about the monster in general, as I feel it more recognition than he deserves." She sighed, seeing that Harry would not be beswaged. "His name, Harry, was Voldemort. Or at least, that's what he went by."

"And you think he might still be alive?" Harry asked, a burning feeling rising in his stomach as he suddenly remembered yet another portion of his vivid nightmare, a high, cold, terrible laugh right before the woman's scream.

"I don't know." Admitted Augusta, looking apologetically at Harry. "But I wouldn't be surprised if he was."

Anger burned in the pit of Harry's stomach, anger at the man who had not only taken his parents from him, but any chance at a childhood, at a happy life.

"I see that you are overwhelmed." Said Augusta sympathetically. "I will leave you now, rest for a while, sleep if you can, the healing potions you have been given are still in effect. I imagine that the next time you wake, they will have taken full effect. I will leave you now."

With that, Augusta turned and made for the exit. She was halfway out of the door when Harry spoke.

"Wait."

She turned, eyeing him inquisitively.

"I'm not going to have to go back to my aunt and uncle, am I?"

Her expression softened once more, and for the faintest second Harry thought as if she looked like she was going to cry, but a second later the expression was gone, replaced by one of cold, hard determination. "No, Harry, you are never returning to those monsters. I owe you and your family that much at least. From here on out, you will be raised the way you ought to have been raised for the last ten years. We still have time to make a real wizard of you yet."

As Harry let her words sink in, his throat closing at the overwhelming gratitude he felt for this woman, she gently slid out of the room, closing the door softly behind her, leaving Harry to a bit more restless sleep, his dreams full of blinding green light and high, cold laughter.

* * *

**Authors Endnote:**

**I know this is quite a short chapter, but after this scene I am doing a time skip forward by a few weeks, so I figured for the purpose of pacing it was best to end the chapter here. **

**The next chapter won't be staggeringly long, but it will definitely be longer than this one about 7.5k words, so you do all have that to look forward to. **

**Please read and review.**


	3. TSR Ch 3: Integration

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.**

* * *

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story.**

* * *

**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

* * *

**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.**

**The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.**

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Savior's Return.**

**Chapter 3: Integration.**

* * *

**July 24th 1991.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**7:35 AM.**

Harry could hardly believe he had been at Longbottom Manor for a full month. He could say with just as much honesty that not only had the past four weeks been the happiest of his life, but he could honestly say that they had all passed in a blur, though he also admitted a large part of that may very well have been due to the fact that Harry spent much of the first couple of weeks in a daze, his brain unable to comprehend his new life.

He, Harry Potter was a wizard.

It had seemed impossible at the time, but the longer he stayed at Longbottom Manor, the more and more impossible that fact became to deny.

When Harry had awoken the next day, he found a heaping breakfast waiting for him on the table downstairs. It had been more food than he had ever eaten in his entire life, and it was only a hint of how he would be treated in his new life at Longbottom Manor.

It was a rather drastic shift, as Harry had gone from the slave of the house to something of a prince. He could essentially have every need attended to at a moments notice by a house elf, a creature who literally existed to serve the witches and wizards under its roof. On top of that, one of the first things Augusta had done when Harry had arrived was gain his measurements, and less than an hour later, one of those elves returned to the Manor with a new, full wardrobe for Harry, ranging from muggle t-shirts and pants to formal wizard dress robes and even a dueling tunic.

And then there was the home itself, and the property around it. The manor sat, as Harry had initially suspected, in the center of a prosperous meadow. Around the manor in all directions were rolling green fields that housed all sorts of magical creatures. If one was game enough to venture further, they would find thick, dark forests. Also on the property were several beautiful orchards, two massive gardens, one magical and one muggle, and several imposing greenhouses, which was apparently how the family raked in the majority of their income at this point.

Still, four weeks later, Harry found the mere idea of his new life absurd, and he could still hardly believe the fortune he had stumbled into; it truly had been the best of a bad situation.

That wasn't even pondering magic and the new world in which he was part of. And yes, it truly was a new world, one that Harry had done everything in his power to gain an understanding of over the past month, starting with the day he had awoken.

* * *

**June 25th 1991.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**8:24 AM.**

It was a very groggy and somewhat disoriented Harry that awoke the next day. At first, he expected to look up and see the underside of the stairs, but his memory was jogged when he smelled the pristine scent of the room in which he lay, as well as hearing the sound of birds chirping in the early morning; something he certainly never heard while waking up in a cupboard.

At this, his eyes snapped open, his mind hardly daring to believe that it was all real. A large part of him simply expected it all to be part of some elaborate dream, and for him to have simply imagined the smell and sounds he was currently taking in. When he opened his eyes however, Harry couldn't help but let an infectious smile cross his face as he looked around the still immaculate room, the sunshine now beaming in through the balcony exit.

"You're not sore or anything are you?"

The timid voice from the side of Harry's bed made him shoot into a sitting position, his eyes immediately roaming around the room, trying to locate the speaker. Then his eyes rested on the same boy who he had seen the day earlier, that was before he had been asked to leave by his grandmother. "No," Harry answered truthfully after catching his breath. "and don't do that! You nearly made me jump straight out of the covers."

The boy flushed a bright pink and looked down at his hands resting in his lap before he spoke, his voice even more timid than before. "Sorry."

"Neville right?" Harry asked the other boy, causing him to look up with surprise at the raven haired celebrity sitting before him.

"Y-yes." Said Neville, meeting Harry's eyes for the first time and almost gaping at the emerald fire that seemed to be locked behind those eyes.

"Well, I know that you know my name already, but it's nice to meet you, Neville." Said Harry, holding out his hand to the boy in front of him, who couldn't seem to believe that Harry was giving him so much as a moment of his time.

"Y-you too, heir Potter."

"Huh?" Asked Harry, not knowing what that last bit meant. Well, he knew what the word heir meant, but couldn't see how it applied to him in this circumstance.

The boy flushed again, looking more embarrassed than timid this time around. "S-sorry. I wasn't sure if Gran had told you yet, she'll do it today I imagine. Say, are you hungry?"

"Famished." Harry admitted, eying the boy more critically now. It was then that he saw it, a glint of sunlight reflecting off of something to the boy's left on the bedside table. Harry looked at it, curious as to the identity of the object when his mouth fell open. "Are those?" He trailed off, unable to put his awe into words.

"Oh yeah, your glasses; you can see fine without them now, right?"

"Yeah." Breathed Harry, his voice coming out as more of a question than a statement, as he himself couldn't believe it. "How?" He asked.

The other boy's timid mask broke, if only for a moment. "Magic." He answered, a sly smile adorning his round featured face.

For several seconds, Harry and the boy sat there, staring at each other. Harry's jaw slack and the boy, Neville, looking very worried, as if he may have offended Harry. That was until a moment later, when the raven haired boy's face split into a wide smile, and he let out a bark of laughter before him and Neville broke down into fits. For Harry, it was simply the culmination of something he would have never believed, something that was as brilliant as it was ironic. And for Neville, it was simply the fact that, for the first time in his life, he had someone to laugh with.

The two boys sat there, reveling in their ecstasy for several minutes until, finally, there was a loud crack, and Harry's laugh died in his throat as he saw a strange, unfamiliar creature appear from out of thin air right in front of them. "Mistress Augusta wishes for Masters Harry and Neville to join her for breakfast, young Masters." Said the creature, its voice slightly higher than what Harry thought a human would have been capable of.

"Tell her we will be right down, Hoskins." Said Neville, to which the thing bowed low before disappearing from sight with another loud crack. Neville stood and made for the door, but then he realized that his raven haired companion had not followed him. He turned to look at Harry, and couldn't help but snicker when he saw that Harry was still seated on the bed, gaping like a fish out of water. Neville blushed after realizing that it was probably rude to snicker at Harry's lack of understanding, but his train of thought was cut off when Harry spoke.

"What on earth was that thing?"

"A house elf." Neville answered, quickly making up for his rudeness. "They're creatures who are magically bound to witches and wizards. They pretty much act as our servants."

"You pay them?" Asked Harry, sounding mildly interested.

Neville shook his head. "No, we'd never pay them, that would be awful!"

"What?" Asked Harry a bit hotly, remembering the years he had spent as little more than a slave. "Bit isn't that slavery?"

"It doesn't work like that." Neville answered patiently. "They're bound to their family and their only desire is to serve them as well as possible. They see taking money as an insult."

"What the hell could make any creature be so barmy?" Asked Harry, drawing a snicker from Neville before he smirked deviously back at him and answered.

"Magic."

This time there was no hesitation, as Neville had barely finished the second syllable when Harry broke out into peals of laughter.

It was in this state, still laughing that Neville led Harry into a massive dining room. The floors were all white, and there were several portraits of regal looking men and women adorning the walls. In the center of the room was a white table laid with a red table cloth.

"Good morning, boys." Said the old woman who Harry recognized from the day before. She was sitting at the head of the table, wearing a set of plain black robes adorned with the same emblem that was present on Neville's.

"Morning, Gran." Said Neville, managing to maintain his smile even while staring down his grandmother; something that drew a raised eyebrow and a subtle nod of approval from the Longbottom matriarch.

"Good morning, ma'am." Harry greeted politely.

"None of that from you." The woman scolded him lightly, shooting him an affectionate smile. "I told you yesterday, we're practically family. You'll call me Augusta for now, and one day, if I've gained your trust enough, you may call me Gran."

Harry had to try very hard not to gape at her, affection was something he was not at all used to, and was going to require some time to acclimate to; even if the feeling was one he enjoyed.

"Don't just stand there you two." Commanded Augusta. "Sit down before it all gets cold." At that, she clapped her hands, causing a heap of food to appear on the table that really did make Harry's mouth fall open. At this, Augusta smiled at him sadly. "You'll be fed right here, Harry, no need to worry about that. You're terribly small for your age, and we're going to fix that up as soon as we can." At this, Augusta looked at him critically. "How are your eyes? I see that you're not wearing your glasses, so the potion must have worked?"

"Uh, yeah it did. Gave me a bit of a scare when I first woke up and realized I didn't need them though."

Augusta chuckled as she pulled a vial from out of her pocket and took a glass from off of the table, uncorking the vial as she did so. "You do look far better without them. I never understood why your father never fixed his eyesight. He was a good looking man your father, but those glasses never did him any favours. The look did not befit someone of his status."

"He got my mom to marry him though." Said Harry, though his voice was quiet.

At this, Augusta looked at him closely, stopping her pouring of the liquid to examine him more closely. "I suppose those muggles never did tell you anything about them, did they?" Her voice was softer again, and Harry shook his head. She smiled, this time a real one. "Another thing we'll have to fix. I didn't know them as well as I'd have liked, your mother in particular. But I did know your father a little bit, and my son Frank knew him well. I have plenty of stories, even if they're second hand."

At this, Harry's face lit up, causing the older woman to smile. "That would be great! Do you think I could talk to him about them? Your son, I mean?" Immediately Harry knew he had said the wrong thing. At the question, Augusta's face had darkened, and her eyes seemed to sharpen. "I'm-" Harry started to apologize, but he didn't get far before she waved him off.

"Don't be stupid!" She scolded him. "You did nothing wrong and had no way of knowing. It's just… well, my son Frank and Neville's mother Alice, they are in no condition to speak with you, nor anyone else for that matter. It is unlikely they will ever be in a position to speak to anyone."

At this, Harry looked mortified before he made to apologize but stopped, remembering what Augusta had just said. "How did it happen? I mean if it's not-"

"No, no, it's fine dear." Said Augusta, audibly sighing as she spoke. "If you're going to live with us and get to know Neville, well, you should know at any rate, they were your godparents and would want you to know." Her face took on a faraway look before she spoke again. "Frank and Alice became Aurors after graduating from Hogwarts, by Auror, I mean magical law enforcement for the Ministry. I believe muggles have something similar?"

"Police." Supplied Harry, drawing a nod from Augusta.

"Yes, that's it. Well, they became Aurors during the height of the last war, and they didn't completely make it." Seeing that Harry was about to ask a question she continued. "They are alive, but condemned to a fate worse than death." She sighed heavily once more, suddenly looking every bit her age, and even older. "There are certain spells called curses that are evil in nature. These, along with some rituals and the like are called the Dark Arts, and they were often implemented by Voldemort and his supporters. Well, even among the Dark Arts, there were three curses that stood out; they are so horrible they are called The Unforgivable Curses, and the use of any of the three on another human being will get you an automatic life sentence in Azkaban, our prison. Well, one of the three is called the Cruciatus curse." At the name of the curse, Harry caught Neville flinch from out of the corner of his eye, and he suddenly realized where this story was going.

"The Cruciatus curse is essentially the torture curse. It causes pain so immense that it makes childbirth look like a fun day in the office. Well, after you sent the bastard Merlin only knows where, let us hope for the grave, some of his more staunch followers attacked Frank and Alice. They were high up in the Auror Corp, and worked with Dumbledore personally, so these monsters thought that they would have information on where they could find whatever remained of their master." Augusta's voice was as much a hiss as that of a snake, and it was equal in venom to the worst of the bunch. "Well, long story short, they got the jump on them, outnumbered them you see, would have never managed a thing if it weren't for that! Anyway, they used the Cruciatus curse on them, and said if they didn't tell them where he was they'd keep going. Naturally, neither of them said a damn thing!" Despite the tragedy of the statement and the horrible truth it implied, Augusta's voice carried more than a note of pride, every syllable positively rung with the emotion. "They're in the long term ward at St. Mungos." She continued, her voice back to the snarl it had been before. "They are alive, but they're minds are shattered. We visit them every year, but they hardly recognize us, and never say a word."

"And the ones who attacked them?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Azkaban." Augusta said, not seeming at all satisfied with that as a punishment. "They'll die there."

"I'm sorry for bringing it up." Harry said honestly, but Augusta shook her head.

"Nonsense, you had to know; they would have wanted you to know. And stop apologizing for asking questions." When Augusta saw Neville, slouched in the corner, looking down at his hands she snapped at him. "Chin up, Neville, your parents are heroes! You should be proud."

"I am!" Said Neville, and he sounded as if he meant it, this again drew an approving nod from Augusta before she turned back to Harry.

"Anyways, yes, your father did get your mother in the end. But it was a long chase on his part; poor boy chased that woman around like a lost puppy for almost seven years before she finally agreed to give him a chance."

"Really?" Asked Harry, intrigued at the prospect of tales of his parents.

"Oh yes." Said Augusta, smiling apologetically at Harry before handing him the vial in her hands, which he took confusedly. "We will have plenty of time to catch you up on your parents, and trust me when I say I intend on doing it," She promised, something in her voice compelling Harry to believe her. "but right now we have other things we need to discuss." She gestured to the vial in his hand, which Harry was studying skeptically. "That is a nutrient potion." She informed him, wrinkling her nose at the mere thought of it. "You should have never needed one, but because of those animals who called themselves your family, you do. You will drink one of these at every meal for the foreseeable future. I will write to Hogwarts and have them allow you to do it there as well. It will take a while, but you're still young. It shouldn't be too difficult to counteract what those muggles did to you."

Harry flushed at the reminder, looking down at the vial when Augusta snapped at him. "Do not be ashamed! You had no control over what happened. You were only a boy who had no idea what you were capable of! It is them who should be ashamed, not you! We'll fix everything they've done. Don't worry, we'll make you a true wizard, one that both you and your parents can be proud of."

Despite himself, Harry smiled; he couldn't help it, and in that moment, he vowed to fulfill Augusta's promise. He vowed to do everything he could to avenge his parents and to be someone they could have been proud of; both as a person and as a wizard. So, with this in mind, Harry took his first sip of the nutrient potion, not even making a face as the awful tasting liquid burned his throat, not noticing Augusta's look of pride, and Neville's look of admiration.

* * *

**July 24th 1991.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**7:36 AM.**

Harry smiled as he remembered that first day. He had asked more questions in the last month than he had asked in his entire life, though in hindsight he supposed that wasn't saying much. He had become rather close with Neville, though it had taken a lot of coxing to get the boy to open up. Neville was a fairly closed off boy, and according to his gran he had confidence and self esteem issues, something Harry, upon observation, very much agreed with. Once you got to know him though, Neville was a good friend. Again, Harry would admit that he had no experience in the matter, but he knew it to be true. Neville was kind, caring, loyal, and to Harry's continued relief, patient; a trait that Harry was pretty sure was the only thing that kept their friendship together as he really had asked a lot of questions, a lot of which probably seemed foolish to the pureblood. Despite the number of questions though, or the simplicity of which he was asking, Neville never got upset, or annoyed, or frustrated. On the contrary, Harry got the impression that it brightened the boy's day when he could answer something for Harry, even if now, his answer was always "magic" when the timing was appropriate, something that had kind of become a running joke between the two youths.

Though Harry tried to spend time with the other boy, much of his time over the last month had been spent either with Augusta, or locked up in his room with his nose in a book. During the first breakfast, Harry had asked Augusta about the whole "Heir Potter" comment Neville had made. From there, she had explained to him how magical Britain ran on a system that Harry thought was rather familiar to how the muggles had lived centuries previous; and that he was the heir to one of the most powerful families in the country. She went on to explain about the Wizengamot, and the bigotry that went on in their society; something that she fiercely opposed.

After the breakfast and taking his measurements, the first thing Augusta had done was take Harry into the sitting room and instruct him on proper pureblood edicate. This became a routine for Harry, as every day of the week, excluding weekends, he would spend several hours in the sitting room with Augusta, going over either pureblood edicate, politics, or important historical events that he could not be ignorant of, most of which concerned Voldemort, though a fair amount of it concerned another Dark Lord, Gellert Grindelwald. For example, one of Harry's first lessons in history was Albus Dumbledore, and how he had become so well respected. Augusta had nothing against Dumbledore, on the contrary, she had a great amount of respect for him and agreed with the consensus that he was the greatest wizard alive. Despite that though, she would never be caught worshipping the man.

After these lessons, Harry would get a break for lunch, and then he would rejoin Augusta in the sitting room where they would cover basic magical theory. At least once a week, she would use this time to take him out to the greenhouses to teach him Herbology. On the weekends, Harry was allowed to roam free, but even then he spent much of his time with his face buried in a book, as he wanted nothing more than to catch up on the world in which he should have been raised.

So, it was this routine that he expected to go through that day. After his morning shower, Harry made his way down to the dining room. About halfway through their meal however, the plans changed.

They all looked up from their meal when they heard a sharp and persistent tapping on the window. All of them looked up and saw two tawny owls, each carrying a rather official looking scroll of parchment. A month ago, this site would have caused Harry to question reality, but as he had seen similar things quite often in the last month, it was something he was coming to accept, though he often made carrier pigeon jokes that fell on deaf ears, as the Longbottoms didn't seem to understand his reference to muggle history.

"Are those-" Asked Neville, his voice trailing off as Augusta flicked her wand, causing the window to open and for the owls to swoop in, each depositing a letter in front of Harry and Neville before taking back off out of the still open window.

"Your Hogwarts letters," Augusta finished the statement, the biggest smile Harry had ever seen the woman wear adorning her face. "yes, I believe so. Well? Go on, open it, both of you."

With trembling fingers, Harry opened the envelope addressed to 'Mr. H. Potter, The Third Bedroom From The Right, Fourth Floor, Longbottom Manor' and pulled out several pieces of parchment. He took a deep breath and read the first.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall._

_Deputy Headmistress. _

Harry shuffled to the second page, a manic grin breaking out on his face as he looked down at the second page of the most important letter he would ever receive.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic

by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory

by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration

by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions

by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

For several seconds, not a word was uttered. The three of them simply sat in silence and absorbed the most recent events. Finally, Neville broke the silence. "I got in." He said, his voice barely more than a whisper; he sounded as if he could hardly believe what he was saying.

Augusta snorted. "Of course you got in! You're the Heir to House Longbottom for Merlin's sake! What did you think was going to happen?"

Neville didn't answer, he simply looked down at the letter in his hands as if it was the most valuable thing in the world. Augusta shook her head, as if still trying to comprehend the absurd alternative her grandson had proposed. "Well," she said, standing from her seat with a rather smug smile on her face. "I think it's time for a visit to Diagon Alley. Things we need to buy, come on boys."

At the mention of Diagon Alley, Harry's face split into a wide grin, as did Neville's. Harry had heard a lot about the legendary alley, but in his month in the wizarding world, he had never actually been there. "How will we get there?" He asked, quickly scrambling to his feet and crossing the room to catch up with the older woman.

"The floo." Said Augusta simply, making Neville go pale.

"You don't like the floo I'm taking it?" Harry asked him, making the boy turn a pallid shade of green.

"Bad experiences." Neville mumbled under his breath, making Harry somewhat worried.

Augusta must have caught onto the shift in his mood, as she clasped a bony hand on his shoulder and said. "You'll do fine, dear. You're not nearly as clumsy as Neville." She seemed to ponder something for a moment before calling on Hoskins, the head elf, causing him to appear with pop at her feet. "Fetch Harry a cloak, please, Hoskins. One with a fairly large hood."

"Yes, Mistress Augusta." Said the elf, popping out of the room before re entering, handing her a long, black travelling cloak which she nodded at approvingly and handed to Harry before dismissing the elf.

"So people don't gawk at you in the streets." She explained, causing Harry to smile thankfully at her, as that was not a scene he was eager to start.

"It'll be pretty hot though." Said Harry as he slid the cloak around his shoulders.

"Nonsense." Said Augusta, waving her wand over Harry and causing him to feel as if the cloak was air conditioned.

Neville smirked. "Never doubt the wonders of magic."

* * *

**July 24th 1991.**

**The Leaky Cauldron.**

**8:11 AM.**

Harry was rather impressed with himself as he staggered out of the fireplace into a small, dim pub that he knew to be The Leaky Cauldron. He had staggered quite badly, but had been pleasantly surprised he didn't end up in a sitting position on the hard stone floor; much like Neville managed to do a second later, as he came shooting out of the fireplace like a rogue bludger. Normally Harry was sure this would have caused a scene, but as they were the only ones in the bar aside from the barman due to the hour, Neville was saved from any further embarrassment.

Augusta sighed before making her way towards what looked like a back exit, gesturing for Harry and Neville to follow. As Harry strode across the dim room, he reached up to his hood, making sure it was well secured before they entered Diagon proper.

When they exited the dimly lit bar, Harry had to squint against the sudden sunlight, which in the current moment appeared to be blinding. Augusta however seemed unphased; she stepped up to the brick wall and tapped a particular brick with the end of her wand. An instant later, the bricks began to part, causing Harry's mouth to fall open for a second before he quickly slammed it back shut, his edicate lessons ringing true in his mind. Where the wall had stood a moment earlier, in its place was an old fashioned stone archway which led onto a long, windy cobblestone street that could only be Diagon Alley.

"Brilliant!" Said Harry, looking at all the shops that lined the street as they began to stroll through the alley. Augusta smiled at him.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley." She said, the now familiar yet still odd look of pride adorning her features once again. "First stop, Gringotts."

"The bank?" Asked Harry.

"Precisely." Answered Augusta. "I need to take out some money for Neville's school year at any rate, and you'll need to take out some money of your own."

"They will let me access my vault?" Asked Harry, not quite liking a lot of what he read about goblins and their tendencies of hoarding money.

"They will have little choice." Pronounced Augusta with authority, effectively ending that line of questioning before it could truly begin.

Harry tried not to gape at everything as he walked down the street, but he knew from Neville's smirk that he wasn't as successful as he would have liked. He took comfort in the fact that his face was hidden, so the vast majority of onlookers probably couldn't even tell he was doing it, and if they could, they likely had no idea as to who he was.

They walked down the street, past the apothecary, past the largest bookstore Harry had ever seen, and past a shop that truly caught his attention, Quality Quidditch Supplies. "Look! It's the new Nimbus 2000; that's the fastest racing broom in the world!" At the mention of the new Nimbus, Harry's head cocked in that direction, and he had to stop himself from salivating at the sight of the pristine silvery broomstick with the words _Nimbus 2000 _emblazoned across its handle in gold.

After a little while further, they stepped into the shadow of the most imposing looking building Harry had seen thus far. It was the tallest building around, and its facade dominated the Diagon skyline. The building was made almost entirely of marble, and seemed to glow in the early morning sunlight. Leading up to the ornate front entrance were imposing marble steps, on either side of the stairs at the top and bottom were a pair of goblin guards. They were dressed in armour that Harry assumed to be made of dragon hide, they were also carrying long, golden spears which shone in the sun as much as the building in which they were entering. As they reached the entrance of the bank, Harry's eyes sought out the legendary inscription of which he had read about; and inscription that was as old as the bank itself.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed

For those who take, but do not earn

Must pay most dearly in their turn

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

Harry assumed he was not the only one who had chosen to admire the poetry, as he heard Neville let out a soft shudder from beside him. The atrium of Gringotts was elaborately decorated as one would expect, with marble floors and ornate desks. Augusta paid none of this any mind. She simply strode up to one of the open counters and cleared her throat loudly, gaining the attention of a goblin who had been cleaning his fingernails with a sharp, ruby encrusted knife.

"Yes." It asked impassively without looking up.

"I am here to make a withdrawal from the Longbottom family vault."

"That shouldn't be a problem." Said the goblin, his eyes still cast downwards to the task at hand.

"I am also here to aid in the withdrawal of money from Heir Potter's vault.

Suddenly, the goblin let out a hiss of pain as he had cut open his finger, clearly caught by surprise. Cursing in a language Harry did not understand, Gobbledigook he assumed, the goblin finally looked up, and its dark, intense eyes found Harry. "Does Mr. Potter have his key?" The goblin asked, inspecting Harry as closely as his outfit would allow.

"Mr. Potter had no idea of his heritage or abilities until a month ago!" Snapped Augusta, causing the goblin to quirk a brow in surprise. "I don't know who has his key, but whoever does should have their key disabled."

"So you would like a new key then?" Asked the goblin, seeming far more interested in the proceedings all of a sudden.

"Correct." Affirmed Augusta, drawing a nod from the goblin.

"This will require a blood test, which will cost Mr. Potter 25 galleons from his-"

"Take the money from the Longbottom vault please." Said Augusta, sounding more and more impatient the longer the conversation went on.

"Very well." Said the goblin. "If you would follow me, I will take you to the Potter account manager, though only Mr. Potter will be allowed access to the room until his identity is proven."

"Naturally." Said Augusta.

Harry, Neville, and Augusta followed the goblin down a complex layout of hallways, one twist led into another turn and vise versa. Harry thought it was well done, without the aid of the goblin, he would have never managed to find his way to the ornate oak door with the name Rodnuk embroidered upon the door.

"Wait here." Commanded the goblin, knocking sharply three times before entering, leaving Harry, Neville and Augusta out in the hall. A few moments later, the door to the office opened and their guide emerged. "Rodnuk is ready for you, Mr. Potter. Assuming your claim is validated, he will call upon another goblin to guide you and your companions to their vaults and out of the bank." The goblin instructed before strolling back around the corner, leaving Harry to walk forward and push open the ornate looking door.

The office was luxurious, Harry would give it that. The carpet was red trimmed in white. The chairs were plush and comfortable looking, the walls were lined with portraits, not of goblins but of people; people whom Harry recognized from pictures shown to him by Augusta in the last month. Harry's ancestors, from his mother and father dating back four generations. And then there was the desk itself; it was large, and made of a dark oak wood, but it was trimmed in gold and dominated much of the space in the room. Sitting behind the desk, gazing intently at Harry with his fingers interlaced was a goblin wearing a long, red robe trimmed in gold. "Harry Potter, we meet at long last."

Harry bowed low to the goblin before stepping forward and extending a hand. "A pleasure to meet you Mr. Rodnuk."

Though Harry did not notice, the look on the goblin's face was one of stunned incredulity, for never had he ever been greeted so kindly by a wizard. After a moment, he pulled his face back to one of neutrality, though his voice sounded far more curious than it had before. "The same to you, Mr. Potter, and please call me Rodnuk. Goblins do not believe in spoken titles unless they are a Lord."

"Yes si-I mean Rodnuk."

The goblin smirked at him, showing rather sharp teeth. "Good, you learn quickly. Now, it is my understanding you wish to make a claim on the Potter vaults. Is this true?" Harry nodded. "It is also my understanding that you do not have your key? Is this also true?" Again, Harry nodded. "Do you know who does have your key, Mr. Potter?" Harry shook his head and Rodnuk sighed. "I feared not." He opened a drawer on his desk and withdrew an ancient looking piece of parchment, as well a rather ceremonial looking dagger. "I will cut the palm of your hand with this dagger. The blood will drip onto the parchment and spell out your name, origins, and titles. Is this acceptable?"

"Yes, but-" Harry hesitated before finishing. "Would it be possible if I make the cut?" After the Dursleys, Harry had a hard time trusting anyone with a weapon in his presence, least of all someone who admitted they were going to use it, and more so when that being came from the species Augusta called "the least trustworthy of the bunch."

Rodnuk quirked a brow at Harry but didn't object. Instead, he leaned across the table and handed him the dagger. "It does not have to be deep." He instructed. "A few drops will more than do."

Harry brought the knife to his palm and dug the blade in, gritting his teeth as his blood dropped onto the parchment. After a moment, he felt his cut heal. He handed the dagger back to Rodnuk as they both looked down at the parchment in front of them.

_**Harry James Potter.**_

_Born July 31st 1980._

_Born to James Charlus Potter; March 27th 1960-October 31st 1981._

_And_

_Lily Potter nee Evans: January 30th 1960-October 31st 1981._

_**Titles**_

_Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter._

_Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black._

Rodnuk gaped at the last line, wondering how in the name of Merlin had this child become the heir to the Black family, who, in its heyday, had been the leader of the Dark faction, the opposite faction to the Potters. Harry too gaped at the parchment, wondering the same thing as the goblin.

After several seconds of silence, Rodnuk spoke up. "Well, I will admit you have given me quite the shock today, Mr. Potter, and I will have to inform Barchoke of this development, as he is the Black account manager. All in all though, your claim seems to be valid." He reached into the same drawer of his desk that he had earlier and withdrew a small golden key. "I will need you to draw a drop of blood once more and let it fall onto the key. This will key it to you and your vault."

"Excuse me, Rodnuk, but what about my original key?"

Rodnuk looked at Harry calculatingly for several long moments before he spoke. "The other key is supposed to be in the possession of your magical guardian, who was supposed to inform you of your accounts no later than your eighth birthday."

"Magical guardian? What does that mean?"

"I am not surprised you have not heard of it. A magical guardian is usually someone in the magical world who handles the affairs of muggleborns until they come of age. It is my understanding that after the death of your parents you were muggle-raised, which gave the Wizengamot the power and obligation to assign you a magical guardian."

"Who is it?" Asked Harry, thinking whoever they were, they had done a pretty rotten job.

"Albus Dumbledore." Replied the goblin, not even missing a beat.

"What?!" Asked Harry, as that was the last answer he had expected to hear.

"Albus Dumbledore petitioned the Wizengamot on November 11th 1981 to be assigned as your magical guardian. His claim was challenged by Augusta Longbottom and Lucius Malfoy; who both also put their names in for the position. The vote was fairly close, but Dumbledore was given the position, and has held it ever since."

Harry sat there, mouth agape. Why would Dumbledore, who was the beacon of the light, leave Harry to the miserable life he had been handed.

Rodnuk smirked at him. "You humans and your attachment to Dumbledore." He mused. "His intentions are almost always sound, and he is brilliant in his own way, but you should not be so surprised. No wizard alive, with the exception of The Dark Lord, holds as many secrets as Albus Dumbledore."

"The Dark Lord? But isn't Voldemort supposed to be dead?"

Rodnuk didn't flinch at the name, as Harry had found out Neville and many others did, but he scowled, and then delivered the single most important sentence of young Harry Potter's life. "The Dark Lord is alive."

* * *

**Authors Endnote:**

**Wow! Talk about a flourishing finish to this one. I debated having this chapter continue, but I felt like this was an appropriate spot to end it. **

**Please read and review.**

**Also, if you guys have any recommendations or requests for the story pairing feel free to leave them in a review or PM. It's not a vote per se, because at the end of the day I will still make the choice, but if you can give me a good enough reason to choose someone, I may just do it. It's a long way away, but I'm still undecided and would love to hear what you guys think. Just not Hermione, as I already have plans for her. **


	4. TSR Ch 4: Of Alleys and Advances

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.**

* * *

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story.**

* * *

**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

* * *

**Authors Note:**

**I think it is best if I warn you now that the pairing has been decided, and though I'm not going to reveal it, it was not one of the top few suggestions I received. I do thank you all for them nonetheless, and I did seriously consider Susan Bones. In a similar vein, a lot of you wanted a Harry/Luna story and I am just going to break it to you all now that I will almost certainly never write one. For one thihng, I find the concept of Luna in a romance off putting alone, let alone to feature it as a major plot. Secondly, I honestly don't have a lot of faith in myself to write Luna's character in that way, as it is not how I envision her. I have no problem with the pairing and I do not intend to bash on it, but I figured I would explain why it will likely never happen on my profile. **

* * *

**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.**

**The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Also, I will just warn you now. A lot of you wanted Harry/Luna and it's not going to happen. I don't have faith in myself to write Luna the way I would like to portray her, and I've always found the notion of her in a romantic role a bit off putting.**

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 4: Of Alleys and Advances.**

* * *

**July 24th 1991.**

**Gringotts Wizarding Bank.**

**Potter Account Manager's Office.**

**10:06 AM.**

For several minutes, Harry and Rodnuk sat in complete and utter silence; the tension in the air was palpable. Harry's mind felt blank, as if what Rodnuk had just told him had not registered, and if truth be told, Harry wasn't quite sure it had. He opened his mouth and attempted to speak, but no words came out the first time. He closed his mouth before taking a deep, calming breath before trying again, and to his relief, this time he succeeded.

"You're telling me that Voldemort is alive?"

The goblin stared resolutely back at Harry for several seconds before nodding. "Yes, Mr. Potter, I do believe that is exactly what I said."

"And you know this to be true? You're certain this is true? There is no chance you are wrong?"

"Yes, yes, and none at all." Replied the goblin shortly, giving Harry a long, calculating look before speaking. "The names of the vault holders are linked to those specific people through magic. If The Dark Lord was dead, his name would not still be attached to one of our vaults, and it would have passed onto his nearest living relative. Our magic can not be fooled so easily."

Harry could hardly comprehend what he was being told. He had no true emotion at the moment, only shock. His body seemed too taken aback to form a true reaction, so for now, Harry took another calming breath before nodding, promising himself he would tell Augusta at their earliest convenience once they arrived back at Longbottom Manor.

"Would you like to be shown to your vault now?" Asked Rodnuk, seeming to sense that Harry was in his own world.

"What? Oh, yeah, er — I mean, yes please sir, that would be appreciated greatly." The goblin nodded before pressing a button in the center of his desk.

"A goblin is on his way, please wait outside the office with your companions. Take your new key with you, obviously."

Harry nodded and stood, bowing to the goblin who merely nodded his head in return. "Thank you for your time Rodnuk. It has been a pleasure doing business with you." Harry made to leave, but the sharp voice of the goblin stopped him.

"Heir Potter." Harry turned, looking back curiously to see that the goblin had a rather conflicted look on his face. The goblin sighed, seeming to decide their was no backing out at this point, as he had seemingly already committed to whatever it was that was on his mind. "We goblins do not forget what you did for all magical creatures, human or not. The Dark Lord is an enemy to magic itself, not just your kind. For that reason, I leave you with a warning: Be ready; The Dark Lord is as resourceful as he is vengeful, and he is very large parts both. If he ever does manage to regain physical form, and I think that quite likely, you will be his primary target.'

Harry expected to feel fear, he should have felt fear, but he didn't. Instead, another emotion gripped him, one that he was the furthest thing from familiar with, but one he knew all to well. As Harry stared back at the goblin, nodding in thanks and turning to leave, he tightened his jaw and held his head a little bit higher, as a wave of defiance crashed through his body. He would not allow Voldemort to do to him what he had done to his parents. If he could help it, he would not allow Voldemort to do to anyone what he had done to the Potters.

Harry exited the room to see Neville, Augusta, and another goblin waiting for them. "Your key please?" Demanded the goblin at once, holding out a long fingered hand. Harry passed him the key, his eyes never leaving the creature who inspected it for several minutes before handing it back to him. "All seems in order, follow me. We will do the Potter trust vault first, as it is on a higher level. Then we will make our way down to the Longbottom family vault before making our way back to the surface. Any objections?" When there were none, the goblin began to lead Harry, Neville and Augusta to a small, rickety cart that took them down towards Harry's vault.

The Longbottoms did not seem to be at all fans of the ride down to Harry's trust vault. The cart, which looked like it would fall apart at any moment, hurtled down the makeshift track at breakneck speed. It shot around bends, hugged corners, and accelerated out of said turns brutally, giving the feeling of the worlds most true roller coaster. Personally Harry enjoyed every second of it, and honestly thought it was quite possibly the most fun he had ever had in his life; though as usual when it came to these thoughts, Harry acknowledged that was not saying a whole lot.

At long last for the Longbottoms, and admittedly too soon for Harry, the cart came to a stop, and Augusta and Neville both staggered out of the cart. Silently, Harry tried to deduce which of the two of them was the worse for wear, he came out with the conclusion that it was impossible to say, as they both looked pretty much out of it. Harry himself sprang jovially out of the cart, followed by the goblin who approached the huge door at a methodical pace before turning back to Harry and extending his hand once more. "Key please." He asked again, and Harry, for the second time that day, handed over his vault key to the goblin. The goblin — Griphook the goblin had informed him, stepped up to the vault and inserted the key into an invisible key hole. Instantly the vault door slowly began to swing open, releasing dubious amounts of thick green smoke. When the smoke eventually dispersed and Harry's vision had cleared, the only reaction he could offer was the opening of his jaw and the widening of his eyes.

There, directly before him was a massive vault, with ceiling high piles of bronze knuts, silver sickles, and even golden galleons. Harry turned back to the goblin gaping like a fish and asked. "H-how much w-was in this vault again?"

Despite himself the goblin actually smiled, though the sharp toothed grin appeared more vicious than humorous to Harry as the goblin spoke the amount casually. "2,500,000 galleons, Heir Potter. There has been a 250,000 galleon deposit from the family vault to this one since your birth. On your eleventh birthday, it will happen again. This will happen each year until you reach adulthood, or if you were to gain emancipation." Harry nodded dumbly, having learned the concept of emancipation from Augusta only days previous.

Speaking of Augusta, Harry turned to her, noting the sad smile on the woman's face as he asked. "How much should I take out?"

"A fair amount." Advised Augusta. "You probably won't need too much for school supplies, but a proper witch or wizard should never have to worry about money if the resources are available to them." Harry nodded, and took the offered bag from the goblin.

"The bag is charmed." The creature told him. "It is bottomless and will not increase in weight. Fill it with however many galleons you wish to take and then we will be off."

Following Augusta's instructions, Harry piled the bag full of far more galleons than he would need, throwing in a fair amount of silver sickles and bronze knuts for good measure. Finally, Harry stepped back outside of his vault, and the goblin closed the large metal door once more. "Back to the cart if you would." He said, prompting Harry to smile despite himself and both Longbottoms to pale rather drastically.

Augusta took out a large number of galleons from the Longbottom vault, which dwarfed the Potter trust vault in size, though as Augusta reminded him. "Our families are likely quite similar in wealth, with your family likely having the financial edge, but as you have only seen your trust vault, it will not appear that way."

* * *

When Harry, Neville and Augusta reached the surface once more, Augusta was looking rather pale. "I am going to one of the cafes for a refreshment." She declared, handing a fair amount of gold over to Neville. "Buy your trunks, books, and robes. I will meet you outside of the apothecary to pick up potions supplies, and we will continue from there." Both boys nodded and parted from Augusta, making their way through the now packed streets of Diagon Alley, Harry making sure to keep the hood of his cloak pulled tightly up at all times.

"So, where to?" Asked Neville, looking to Harry for direction as they fought their way through the crowd.

Harry thought for a moment before responding. "Well, I'd love to run to Flourish and Blotts, but I think a trunk would probably be the best place to start. I wouldn't want to be carrying all of this stuff around."

Neville nodded before smiling at his new friend. "I think what you'd really like to do is go into that Quidditch place. I saw your face when the boy was talking about that new racing broom."

Harry nodded. He had been dying to try out a broom ever since he had learned of their existence, but he had thus far been unable, as the Longbottoms selection of brooms were mostly priceless antiques, and they were meant as collectables, not toys. "Yeah," Harry conceded. "I wish; but honestly, I don't even want to know how much one would cost."

Neville winced at the thought as they neared an elaborately decorated building which advertised trunks of all shapes and sizes. When they entered, they were almost immediately met by a salesman. "Hello!" The man said enthusiastically, eyeing Harry's fine cloak and Neville's immaculate robes almost hungrily. "I take it you are both here for trunks?" His smile only widened as he received affirmative nods from both boys. "Excellent!" The man proclaimed, rubbing his hands together eagerly at the prospect of two sales. "Now, do you two have any idea what you'd like?"

The following number of minutes was quite overwhelming, as the man described so many different types of enchantments that even Harry's near flawless memory was seriously put to the test. Poor Neville beside him, who had apparently never had the greatest of memories to begin with, seemed hopelessly lost come the fifth enchantment. Despite the whirlwind of information however, they eventually found what they were looking for.

Harry bought a dark oak trunk with a password protected lock. The lock was enchanted to only open if the person gave the correct password. That was far from the most exciting feature however. The trunk featured a multi compartment system, with each compartment protected by a different password. When a password was spoken, only the corresponding compartment would be open. The trunk also featured an always active feather light charm, and if the correct compartment had been opened, would immediately show the owner the item which they were looking for merely upon hearing them ask for the item. The trunk could also store food for indefinite periods of time without it spoiling, something that after years of near starvation, Harry figured could one day come in handy. Neville's was similar to Harry, though the wood was a lighter colour, and his only had one password for all compartments, as he did not trust himself to remember multiple passwords the same way that Harry did.

They left the store nearly an hour after entering. Though despite their extended stay, both boys were quite happy with their purchases as they made their way towards Flourish and Blotts. "And here's where I lose you?" Asked Neville with a smirk as Harry's emerald green eyes took on a hungry gleam. As much as Harry had learned over the holidays, it was not nearly enough. He was truly obsessed with this new world, and wanted to learn as much of it as possible. He wanted to make his parents proud, and he did not think he could do that if he was ignorant. On top of that, he had always been a high achiever academically to the Dursleys constant dismay; he had no intention of changing now, despite the massive shifts in both scenery and curriculum. Plus, as impressive as the Longbottom family library was, he would be unable to take it to Hogwarts with him.

"Yup." Said Harry cheerfully, waving to Neville as he disappeared between the shelves. Neville merely shook his head, deciding it would be far faster and easier to simply wait for his friend outside once he had acquired the necessary materials.

Harry picked out all of his school books quickly enough. As he was looking for extra reading material however, he could not shake the words of Rodnuk. "_The Dark Lord is alive." _the goblin had said. So, it was with this in mind that Harry added a few choice books to his collection. He knew that none of them would have anything that would even give Voldemort a seconds pause, but he had to start somewhere.

By the time Harry stacked all of his books on the counter, the cashier was rather taken aback. Aside from the standard Hogwarts requirements, Harry had also purchased: _Rise and Fall of The Dark Arts, Important Magical Discoveries of the Twentieth Century, Important Magical Discoveries of the Nineteenth Century, The Wizengamot: A Deep Look at the Intricacies of Magical Politics, 50 Jinxes, Hexes and Curses to Wow Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies, A Journey In Jinxes, Potions Theory Made Easy, The Standard Book Of Spells Grade 2, A Beginners Guide to Defensive Magic, Hogwarts a History, and Quidditch Through The Ages. _

When he finally emerged from the book shop with all of his books stored safely in the second compartment of his trunk, Neville shot him a curious look and he returned it with a pointed look. "Don't ask questions you don't want answered." Harry told him, causing Neville to flush before smiling sheepishly at first, but eventually his grin widened and he snickered. "The robe shop then?" Asked Harry, having no idea what the name of said shop was.

"Madam Malkin's, yeah." Said Neville, leading Harry back the way they had come before they entered a rather large shop with every kind of robe imaginable. Neville smiled at Harry again. "Bet you're grateful gran did your wardrobe then, aren't you?" He asked Harry. "Would be a nightmare to have to do it all now."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, fair point now that you mention it." He said, as the woman… Madam Malkin, Harry presumed, made her way over to them, a kind smile firmly in place.

"Hogwarts dears?" The kind faced woman asked, prompting both boys to nod politely, causing the woman to smile at them once more before gesturing to the back of the shop. "There's another young boy getting robed up as we speak."

Harry and Neville made their way towards the back to the shop and true to her word, there was indeed another boy on a stool already. Harry took the stool beside him, but Neville had frozen, looking at the boy for a moment in what appeared to be horror before he schooled his features and took the stool to Harry's left, but not before shooting Harry an almost warning look. Harry quirked an eyebrow, not seeing what Neville was so worried about. He allowed Madam Malkin to begin working on him as he glanced over towards the boy to his right. He was tall for their age, assuming they were the same age. He was very pale, with platinum blonde hair, an aristocratic face, and sharp grey eyes.

"Hello," said the boy to Harry. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes." Harry answered, continuing to peer at the boy curiously. The boy didn't seem to mind in the slightest, on the contrary, he seemed to puff out his chest, almost reveling in the attention.

"My Father's next door buying my books, and mother is up the street looking at wands." He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and smuggle it in somehow." Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley. "Do you have your own broom?" The boy asked.

"I wish." Harry responded, causing the boy to nod sympathetically.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"Not really, no." Said Harry. "Would if I had my own broom though."

The boy nodded almost approvingly at Harry. "I do — father says it would be a crime if I'm not picked to play for the house team and I must say I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No." Answered Harry honestly. He knew about the houses, and would be hoping beyond hope for Gryffindor, as he would like nothing more than to continue on his family legacy, but a large part of him thought Ravenclaw was far from out of the question.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there do they? But I know I'll be in Slytherin, our whole family have been. Imagine being sorted into Hufflepuff. I think I'd leave wouldn't you?"

Harry shrugged. "I see nothing wrong with loyalty." He commented, causing the boy to peer at him curiously.

"Oh yes," he drawled. "it's all good in theory but surely you've heard about them? Father says they're a load of duffers, and half of them aren't even loyal from what I've heard."

"I try not to judge based on others opinions.' Commented Harry, keeping his voice level.

The boy merely shrugged in response. "To each their own, I guess." He said, just as Madam Malkin proclaimed Harry done. Harry stepped down off of the stool to find that Neville's robes were already finished and that the pudgy boy was waiting for him. Harry couldn't help but notice Neville shooting an odd glance backwards over his head back towards the boy still on the stool.

When they left the shop, Harry immediately turned to Neville. "Ok, explain. What was with the way you were looking at that boy?"

Neville shifted uncomfortably before speaking. "Harry, that boy was Draco Malfoy."

Harry scratched his head. He knew Augusta had mentioned the Malfoy's in their cultural studies, and he could vaguely remember her not having a positive opinion of them, though he couldn't remember much more than that. "Er, they're one of the Sacred Twenty Eight, right?" Asked Harry, the thought coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Yes." Said Neville a bit coldly as they walked away, the tone of his voice surprising Harry, as it was completely foreign to him, at least in terms of Neville. "They're bigoted Pureblood suppremesists. Some people even say they served You-Know-Who." Neville added this last part in a low, conspiratory whisper.

Harry's mind sharpened at the mention of Voldemort as yet again, Rodnuk's words replayed in his mind. He looked pointedly at Neville. "Was there ever any proof?"

Neville shifted uncomfortably. "Well, sort of. Lucius Malfoy, that's that boy's dad, was caught being a Death Eater-"

"One of Voldemort's followers." Harry said, seeking confirmation.

"Exactly." Affirmed Neville before pressing onwards. "Anyway, he was arrested for it, but he got out of trouble. Claimed he was under the Imperius curse."

"Was he?" Asked Harry, thinking that would be a pretty good reason if it were true.

Neville shrugged. "No one knows for sure, but gran sure doesn't think so; she said the whole family's been dark for generations."

Harry let this sink in, along with the very real possibility that he may very well have just exchanged an almost pleasant, if a little awkward conversation with the son of a Death Eater. He was snapped out of his train of thought quite quickly however, when Augusta called Neville's name, bringing their attention onto the older woman waiting outside of the apothecary, easily recognizable by the stuffed vultures hat which she wore.

The apothecary was a fairly routine stop, and within fifteen minutes, they were out of the dark, dreary building and back into the summer sunlight once more. Augusta turned to Harry. "We'll get you your wand today, I think." She said, a note of pride lacing her voice as they began to move down the street towards Ollivander's.

"What about Neville?" Asked Harry curiously.

Augusta seemed to straighten. "Neville will be using his father's wand. Great wand that one, and a great wizard Frank was. It will do him well, just like it did his father." Harry nodded, taking the proud proclamation at face value as he thought ahead to the near future.

A magic wand — this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.

Minutes later, they reached the shop in which Harry would receive what he had most been looking forward to for the last month. The shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382_ _BC. _ A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly chair which Neville sat on to wait. Meanwhile Augusta took out her own wand and conjured herself a much more comfortable looking arm chair. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions which had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon." said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Neville must have jumped too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he quickly got off the spindly chair. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello." replied Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes.' said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. "And that's where …"

Mr Ollivander reached out to touch the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. Harry pulled back instinctively, though the older man acted as if he had not noticed Harry's violent reaction.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it." he said softly. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands ... Well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do …"

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted the Longbottoms. "Augusta! Lady Longbottom! How nice to see you again … cypress, 9 and three quarter inches, rather stiff, wasn't it?"

"That is correct, yes." Confirmed Augusta.

"Good wand that one." Said Ollivander, seemingly lost in memory before his eyes finally came to rest on Neville. "And Heir Longbottom, I take it?" He asked, causing Neville to nod politely, if a bit shyly, at the older man, affirming his guess. "Are you here for a wand too then, young man?" Asked Ollivander.

"That will not be necessary, no." Said Augusta rather briskly, causing Ollivander to frown at her deeply, though he did not openly object.

"Hmmm..." said Mr Ollivander, giving Neville a piercing look. "Well, now – Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er – well, I'm right-handed." Harry answered cautiously.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

As he said this, Harry couldn't help but glance towards Neville and Augusta, but if the older woman had heard the wand maker's proclamation, she did not show it. Harry suddenly realised that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do." he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave." Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try-" Harry tried – but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no – here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried and tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become. "Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light onto the walls. Mr Ollivander cried. "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well ... how curious ... how very curious …" He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering. "Curious ... curious …"

"Sorry," said Harry. "but what's curious?"

Mr Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember ... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter ... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

* * *

**July 24th 1991.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**8:05 PM.**

Evening had more than broken by the time Harry, Neville and Augusta arrived back at Longbottom Manor that night. The rest of the trip had consisted of Harry feeling rather guilty as Augusta urged him to by a pet while Neville got nothing. Despite his guilt though, the creature he had selected had given him a great deal of joy. She was a beautiful snowy white owl, and Harry had decided to name her Hedwig; a name he had picked up in his readings over the past month, though he couldn't quite remember where.

After that, the three of them had eaten at one of the many restaurants nestled around Diagon Alley, and in the end, it had been a good day, if admittedly a long one.

As soon as they had landed back at the manor, a house elf immediately popped in front of them asking permission before taking their stuff up to their rooms. Neville made to go up the stairs and Harry was about to follow but hesitated for a second, thinking of the ominous conversation he had shared earlier that day with the goblin, Rodnuk. 'No time like the present.' He thought, gesturing for Neville to go on ahead of him as he turned to Augusta, who was waving her wand, making tea with the use of magic.

When she noticed him still standing there she turned to him. "Is everything alright, dear?" She asked him, in a tone that Harry was still very much getting accustomed to, let alone being called "dear."

"Er — kind of, I mean — I wanted to talk to you, but I needed to do it in private." At this Augusta pierced him with an x-ray like stare, seeming to try and pluck the topic straight from his mind. After several moments, she must have realized the seriousness of the topic, for she nodded curtly and gestured for Harry to follow her before leading him into a room he had seen but never entered, he knew it to be her private study.

The large oak desk was covered in paper, and on the wall were a variety or pictures. There were a few of Neville, all in different stages of his life, but most of the wall space were decorated with pictures of the same man. He seemed tall, though it was hard to tell from a portrait, he had an athletic build, though it leaned more towards the bulkier side. He had short brown hair and intense eyes. His jaw was firm, strong and set, and his features seemed well crafted. Despite the many differences he could see the similarities between this man and Neville, the hair colour, the general shape of the face, the nose. "Is that your son?" Asked Harry softly, making sure not to speak in the past tense.

Augusta sighed, looking every bit her age once more. "It is." She said sadly, though not without a note of fondness in her voice. "He doesn't look like that now though." She said darkly, before turning to Harry. "This room is enchanted with every privacy spell or ward you could ever hope for. So, what is it you would like to discuss with me?"

Harry closed his eyes and took one, long, deep breath before opening his eyes. When he did so, the older woman was shocked by what she saw, and for the rest of her life, she would remember the look in the boy's eyes. It was almost as if his eyes were on fire, dancing with an eerie green light. His eyes seemed to shine so brightly it looked as if they were illuminating the rest of his face, and she tried not to shiver as they reminded her so forcefully of the killing curse. And then he spoke, his voice soft, barely more than a whisper. "Voldemort is alive."

For several moments both parties sat there, one in stunned disbelief, the other staring resolutely into the eyes of his older counterpart, willing her to believe him, willing her to accept the truth.

Now, it was Augusta's turn to close her eyes and breathe deeply before her eyes opened, filled with a different type of fire. Where Harry's eyes had shown with defiance Augusta's shone with only one thing… a burning desire for vengeance. "How do you know this?" She asked, her voice more serious than Harry had heard it before.

"Apparently, his name is still attached to a Gringotts vault." Said Harry, causing the older woman to pale for a moment before she set her jaw tightly. "The goblins say that means he's definitely still alive, and…" he trailed off, taking yet another deep breath before speaking once more. "they think he'll come for me." He looked up at Augusta, almost desperately. "Do you think it's true, what will I do?"

Augusta looked at Harry sadly before speaking. "If his name is attached to a vault then yes, it definitely means that the fucker is still alive." She spat. Harry had heard her swear before, but never so shrewdly, and never with such venom. "And I am sure he will come after you if the monster manages to regain a body." She said. "He was always high on his power. But it will be his downfall." She looked at Harry, and Harry could see the fire in them, matching that of his own, if not surpassing it. "As for what you will do," she continued. "you will prepare. You will become the absolute best you can be, and knowing your stock, that's pretty damn good. And when the time comes, he will come, and he will fall; just like he did almost ten years ago."

"But how?" Asked Harry, his voice etched with disbelief at her proclamation. "How am I supposed to ever beat him?"

"Because," said Augusta, her voice filled with passion and determination. "that bastard has some comeuppance owed to him, and I can think of no one better or more suited than you to make sure he receives it."

* * *

**Authors Endnote:**

**Well, I am fairly happy with the way this chapter turned out, even if a lot of it was admittedly necessary cannon rehash. The next chapter will get them to Hogwarts, and through the sorting. The chapter is 13k words long, so you have that to look forward to.**

**Please read and review.**


	5. TSR Ch 5: The True Beginning

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.**

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story.**

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Authors Note:**

**A lot of this chapter is admittedly cannon rehash, but I hope you understand that it was necessary and enjoy it all the same. **

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.**

**The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.**

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

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**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 5: The True Beginning.**

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**July 31st 1991.**

**Longbottom Manor. **

**2:37 PM.**

Harry stared open-mouthed at the broomstick in his lap, looking between the priceless racing broom and the smiling face of Augusta Longbottom, as she looked at her ward with delight at his reaction.

Harry had found the concept of a real birthday strange, let alone the realization that for the first time in his life, he would actually be receiving gifts. He hadn't expected too much, especially after seeing what Neville had gotten the day before. Some of his relatives had sent him some expensive items, though more of the collectible variety. True, Augusta had come through, with both an extremely rare and difficult to find book on Herbology, and Harry thought he had done alright with his plaque of the Longbottom family crest, but aside from that his turnout hadn't been spectacular by any means; at least not in comparison to what Harry had seen Dudley receive. I mean, his Uncle… Algie his name had been had got him a toad. I mean, a toad? Seriously? He could have got him an owl? Or even a cat? But no… a toad. Was he intentionally mocking or antagonizing Neville?

So with that, as well as his previous life experiences in mind, Harry had awoken on the morning of July the thirty first with fairly low expectations. The rather cliche philosophy "Expect the worst, hope for the best" had been drilled into Harry's mind for years, even if the hoping part usually hadn't been a part of it, at least up until a month ago. So the last thing Harry had been expecting was an absolute feast of a breakfast, consisting of all of Harry's favourites. After that, Harry had spent some time playing some magical card games with Neville and Augusta before a large lunch, and to Harry's surprise, his first ever birthday cake.

And then came the presents. Harry had only received two presents, one from Augusta, and one from Neville. Harry had opened Augusta's first, as the shape of it had intrigued him. The absolute last thing he had been expecting was for a brand new, spotless, still shiny Nimbus 2000 to roll out of the wrapping and onto his lap. The silvery broom shimmered in the light, and the light streaming through the open window danced on the golden words _Nimbus 2000_ that were embossed on the broom handle. Harry looked up at Augusta with open shock in his eyes and she smiled. "Y-you? You g-got me this? But-the price-"

"Was not an issue Harry." Said Augusta dismissively, waving him off. "With the lack of birthday gifts you have received in your life, I wanted to do my best to make up for it." She smiled sadly at him. "And your father would kill me if I didn't attempt to nudge you towards Quidditch, not that it was necessary by the looks of it. I see you already keep a close eye on the scores. He'd have killed to have given you something like this, it was the least I could do for him, for you — for all of you."

Harry felt tears stream from his eyes. He was not an overly sappy person. He was emotional to a point yes, but he often hid it well on the surface, even if he did choose to act on it, but this gift, the meaning behind it, everything, it was just too much. Harry gingerly placed the broom to the side before rushing to his feet and embracing the older woman. It took him several minutes to get a hold on his emotions, but when he finally did, he looked to his other gift.

He now regretted opening Augusta's first, for how was Neville ever going to top that? Harry could think of no material object that he wanted more than the broom that now lay at his feet. Noticing how nervous and twitchy Neville now seemed to be, Harry picked up the much smaller, rectangular package from the boy and unwrapped it. When he opened it, he found a small, black book. Intrigued he opened it, and what he found made him gasp. Staring out at him from the first page were two figures. They were both slim, one with intense hazel eyes shining through expensive looking glasses and all too familiar dark messy hair. The other had a soft, almost angelic face, red hair and shockingly green eyes that Harry knew all too well. In the women's arms was a small bundle of blankets that seemed to be moving and Harry felt his throat close up with emotion as he realized what was in the bundle of blankets. He looked up to Neville, speechless again as he once more had to fight back tears.

"I-I didn't know what to get you. I-I knew you didn't have any pictures of your parents, so I had gran help me a bit. We reached out to family friends of yours and got them to send us all the pictures they could find, I-I put together a little photo album. They're all pictures of one of them… or both of them, or-well — I hope you like it. If you don't I could always-"

But Neville never finished his statement, as before he could move, Harry was on his feet again, and had embraced the slightly taller boy, holding onto him like he was a lifeline. Neville couldn't help but smile, filled with joy at the happiness he had seemingly brought upon his first friend.

* * *

**July 31st 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**Headmaster's Office.**

**4:05 PM.**

Albus Dumbledore sat, astonished and transfixed in equal measure as he stared across his desk at his longtime supporter and someone, that as baffling as it was to many, he considered a friend. He was worried, more worried than he had been in many years but he didn't show it. To any who looked upon him now, Albus Dumbledore would appear to be completely calm, composed, and possibly even indifferent. That mask of calm however, it was just that, a mask, a facade to hide the fear and worry welling up inside of him.

"Just to make sure I heard you correctly," he said, his voice measured as he looked into the warm dark eyes of the Hogwarts gamekeeper, who stood awkwardly on the other side of his desk, shifting uncomfortably in his great black overcoat. "You went to Number 4 Privet Drive as instructed and found that young Harry did not seem to be there?"

"Yes, sir." Answered Hagrid promptly, looking worried himself as he rung his great hands in front of him. "They told me so, Professor Dumbledore, sir. The muggles, I mean. Nasty piece o' work they were. The porky one, Dursley I think 'is name was, told me that Harry wasn't there. Told me he hadn't been there for months."

Dumbledore frowned deeply. "Did he happen to have specified how long exactly Harry had been gone? Or where he may be now? Or as to why he left in the first place?"

Hagrid scratched his beard anxiously. "No sir, he-uh, didn't seem too upset 'e was gone to tell ya the truth." And then his hands were shaking. "Professor, I think he might've ran away. The things he called him were horrible, no kid should have to hear those things."

"You think Harry has been abused?" Asked Dumbledore, unsure of how he expected the half giant to answer.

"I dunno, sir, but he was certainly happy to have 'im gone; said so himself."

Dumbledore sighed. "Very well, Hagrid; thank you for your assistance in the matter. I will do my best to locate young Harry before the first of September. At the worst, we will ascertain the truth once he arrives at Hogwarts."

"Yes, sir. Good day, Professor Dumbledore, sir."

"You as well, Hagrid." Said Dumbledore, forcing a kind smile as the gentle half giant made his exit.

As soon as the door to his office had closed, Dumbledore allowed his mental control to lapse, and instantly, his face took on a deep look of worry and suddenly, he looked every part of his one-hundred-ten years.

He had spent the entirety of the summer abroad, as was required of him via his obligations to the ICW as Supreme Mugwump. He got to avoid most of the travel, citing his inability to participate in duties during the school year due to his status as headmaster, but they certainly made up for it in the summer; something made evident this year as today was the first this summer he had been on English soil, let alone back in his office. He had looked forward greatly to some unwinding for a week or so before he had to deal with the mountain of paperwork that always preceded a new year at Hogwarts; as well as the extra steps that were being put into place this year.

That had not been possible though, as when he had entered his office, the first thing he had noticed was the irregularity in his office, one of his instruments had stopped its ever present humming. At first he had simply sighed, figuring one of his more ancient collectables had finally caught up with its age, however, upon further investigation, Albus's blood ran cold.

This was no mere collectable, it was a priceless artifact that he had won himself years ago, a priceless artifact that to his knowledge, was one of a kind. This artifact had been created to monitor the stability of blood wards, and could be linked to any set up. The device had been created by Gellert sometime between their falling out and the end of the war with the purpose of monitoring the wards on his self constructed prison, Nurmengard. When Albus had led the successful raid on the prison and subsequent liberation of its prisoners less than a week before the final battle, Albus had been entranced by the device, as he had never seen it before and had no idea as to its purpose. He had liberated it from the prison, seeing fit to experiment with it at a later date. To say he had been impressed once he had discovered its true purpose and capabilities had been an understatement. He was sure he would never use it, but had never had any desire to part with it, it was a rather incredible piece of work, and served as an important symbol.

To his surprise however, nearly forty years after the acquisition of the device, Dumbledore had found purpose for it as he stood in the rubble of a once beautiful cottage, the beginnings of a complex plan forming in his mind as he stared at the fire and ash around him.

Another war had been won, but he knew that it was only for a time. He knew, with equal certainty that the lone hope to the light lay curled up in a bundle of blankets in his arms, fast asleep with no idea as to the significance of his purpose.

Tom had been vanquished for the time being, but he knew that the man hadn't been eliminated. He knew this with certainty as the mark on the boy's forehead served as a more solid form of confirmation than he could ever ask for. It was far more than a mark that adorned young Harry Potter's forehead, far more than a magical link that would connect him and Tom until the day one of them fell at the hand of the other. No, at least one piece of Tom lived on through the boy in his arms, he was certain of that even if at the time, he had been unsure of how such a thing was possible.

Dumbledore knew now and then what needed to be done. Harry Potter had to survive, at least for now, and blood wards were the strongest protection that Albus could offer him and in such a time, with many of Tom's most feared and loyal followers still at large, and surely hungry for vengeance, Albus had no doubt the boy would need protection.

Minerva protested, and Albus knew that she had a point. He knew that he may not be giving Harry the best childhood he could offer him, as he was sure if he had simply acquiesced to Augusta Longbottom's demand of custody, the boy would grow up a prince. It was not that Albus didn't want that for Harry Potter, and Albus certainly had no wish to see him neglected, but at the present, the boy's safety was far more important than the boy's happiness. The lives of the few were outweighed by the lives of many; and this decision would have effects on the lives of countless witches, wizards and even muggles all across the country, if not the world.

It was that thought process he used to justify his choice as he put to use for the first time a device he had never planned to touch, and invoked magic he would have been far happier to just leave well enough alone.

He had been satisfied with his plan. Harry Potter would be safe, of that he had no doubt. No one with ill intent for him could pass within a mile radius of the house, and no witch or wizard in the world aside from himself, Minerva and Hagrid knew of his exact location. He did hope the boy would be happy, he hoped that Lily's sister had gotten over what Lily said to be her spite towards magic. He did not wish ill on the boy, he truly did hope he grew up happy.

From what Arabella informed him years later though, Albus sadly had to admit that particular hope hadn't quite played out. The elderly woman suspected the boy was being neglected; and the fact saddened Albus. Despite that though, he had to stay on course. The plan was far too important to be abandoned. Besides, neglect wouldn't really matter too much in the long term. Arabella had not implied anything extreme, and Albus had regretfully admitted years prior to the fact that it was a possibility. He even came to the conclusion that as sad as it was, it could even have positive effects on the future war.

Now though, years later, Albus was worried. Harry had disappeared from Privet Drive? Of course it would happen while he was gone, now he was likely too far away for Albus to easily locate. So, what had happened? Had the neglect been worse than he had thought? Had the boy perhaps ran away from home? This wasn't an option Albus was overly happy to consider, but he regretfully admitted that it was probably the most likely option.

He couldn't think of any other valid option, as he knew that neither Tom nor his followers could touch him and it fit with the failure of his device as well. The blood wards had fallen, something that at the current time, could only happen if Harry Potter did not consider the house of his Aunt and Uncle his home anymore. This, mixed with his disappearance, led Albus to believe that the boy had run away; but where to?

He sighed, getting to his feet, it seemed he would not get the rest he had so desired as now, along with the mountain of aforementioned paperwork which still awaited him, he had another, even more important task at hand. Find Harry Potter; a task that, to Albus's shock and by no means due to a lack of effort had been incomplete even on the first day of the new school term.

* * *

**September 1st 1991.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**7:40 AM.**

Harry continued to pace back and forth in his room as he had done for the better part of the last two hours. It was, at long last, the first of September, and Harry and Neville would finally get to go to Hogwarts; something that Harry had been immensely excited about for the last two months.

Harry had studied hard in his first month in Longbottom Manor, but it had been nothing compared to the second. He had already been motivated by his liberation and his ever present desire to live up to his parents. This last month however, his motivation had been pushed to another level entirely, as the news that his parents murderer was still alive had lit a fire under Harry, one that would not be quenched until he had done everything in his power to prepare.

He had already read and memorized _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 1_, as well as the first year sections of his transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts texts. He had also memorized the vast majority of his first year Potions textbook. He hadn't poured a whole lot of time into History, as he realized it would be less important, but he had still read it quite a bit, as he found the topic to be fascinating. Another book he had been reading a lot was _Magical Theory_. It was only a beginners guide, but Harry found the ideas in that book fascinating, and though the book was massive, he had already read quite a bit of it; even if he would not reach the halfway point probably until close to Christmas. On top of all that, he had continued his lessons with Augusta, as well as read some of his extra curricular books. He had read quite a bit of his book on jinxes, hexes, and curses, as well as _Quidditch Through The Ages, _and he had already read most of _Hogwarts a History_, which he had found to be both extremely enlightening as well as fascinating.

Despite all of that though, Harry knew that he had to balance out his life, something that both Augusta and Neville had constantly reminded him. He spent a great deal of time flying over the past month, and had found it to be his favourite activity in the world. He had been dying to play some Quidditch, as the Longbottoms actually had a pitch, but Neville was horrified at the mere idea of touching a broom, and Harry had nobody else to play it with. He had however, played around with the quaffles and even a golden snitch, charmed not to escape the property. Augusta had watched him, and proclaimed him to be incredible; but said seeker would easily be his best position; something that was fine by Harry, as his favourite bit of the game so far had been the death defying dives after the snitch, something Augusta only very reluctantly allowed him to perform.

Finally, Harry deemed it a reasonable time to go downstairs for breakfast, reasoning that Augusta, who was also an early riser despite her age, would be awake and alert. Harry made his way downstairs and as expected, was greeted by Augusta at the dining table.

"Good morning, Harry." She greeted him with a gentle smile.

Harry took the seat across from her as a plate of bacon and eggs, as well as his nutritional potion popped into being in front of him. "Good morning, Augusta." He replied. Not calling her ma'am had taken some getting used to, but after being lightly scolded for it on more than one occasion, he had finally managed.

She smiled at him. "Excited, are we?"

"You have no idea!" Harry said enthusiastically, causing the older woman to smile once more.

"Judging by the look in your eyes, I have a pretty good one actually." She replied. Moments later, Neville entered the room, seemingly made aware of breakfast by the conversation. "Good morning, Neville." Greeted Augusta.

"Morning, Gran, Harry."

"Morning mate." Said Harry, smiling as Neville took the chair to Harry's immediate right. Harry and Neville had also come a long way in the last month in terms of their friendship. The quiet boy was still very much so, but he had opened up to Harry, and when they were alone, he truly came out of his shell, and seemed like a different person; though still maintained what, at his core, made him who he was.

They ate and discussed light things; subjects they were most looking forward to, Augusta told them both of the ghosts, and of Gryffindor tower. When both boys looked nervous she scoffed. "Come now, you will both be lions without a shadow of a doubt. Nothing else is possible for either of you."

"I fit Ravenclaw pretty well." Said Harry, a bit pale as his appetite suddenly lessened.

"You do," Conceded Augusta. "but you will be a Gryffindor, I am sure of it. I have seen you dive after that snitch, Harry; you have the courage. And I don't think you would fit in as well in Ravenclaw as you may think just because you have their characteristics.

"I do want Gryffindor." He said honestly, for he wanted it above all else.

Augusta nodded at him approvingly. "Don't worry, my boy, you will have it. I know you will."

She gave another speech to Neville, a speech about how his bloodline demanded nothing else, and how he would of course join the house of the brave. The speech only seemed to make Neville more nervous.

Finally, after mere hours but what felt to Harry like days, Augusta stood and led them over to the fireplace. "Just say Platform Nine and Three Quarters and we will bypass the station completely. No need to walk through walls when we can just appear on the other side of them." Harry smiled, as the idea of walking through a wall was one that still made him a bit apprehensive, so he would happily take the alternative.

* * *

**September 1st 1991.**

**Platform Nine and Three Quarters.**

**10:44 AM. **

Several minutes later, Harry and Neville had loaded one of the compartments nearest the back of the train with their belongings, Harry's owl, Hedwig, already told to fly on ahead to the Hogwarts owlery. Now, Harry and Neville stepped off the train to say their goodbyes to Augusta. "I will see both of you on the Christmas holidays." she said hugging them both rather tightly. "Owl me often, both of you." She then looked them both up and down. "If there is anything either of you have forgotten I will owl it to you as soon as possible. Make sure to work hard, both of you. Do your families proud as I know you will." Her face split with pride as she looked at them, standing side by side, Harry could have sworn he saw her wipe the corner of her eye with her sleeve. "Well, have fun, off with you then, both of you." She said gesturing to the train as she smiled good naturedly at the both of them.

As Harry and Neville re-entered their compartment and sat down silence fell upon them for several seconds before Harry broke it. "I can't believe I'm actually doing this, that we're actually doing this."

"Me neither." Answered Neville truthfully, and Harry frowned as he had been told of Neville's late development in magic, and how his uncle had forced it out of him. "Are you nervous for the sorting?" Asked Neville, sounding apprehensive.

"Terrified." Answered Harry honestly, which actually seemed to make Neville feel a bit better.

"Good," the boy responded. "I was worried that it may have been just me."

"Nope, I hear you mate." Said Harry, lounging back in his seat as he felt the express begin to move.

Harry and Neville talked lightly for several minutes before the door to the compartment slid open and a boy entered. He was quite tall for their age, a good few inches taller than Neville who was average in his own regard. He had the lanky build that would often be associated with someone of his stature, flaming red hair, and deep blue eyes. "Oh, sorry." The boy said upon seeing Harry and Neville, his face flushing.

Harry waved him off. "No problem."

The boy stood there awkwardly for a moment before speaking. "Is anyone sitting there?" He asked, pointing to the seat across from Harry and Neville. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down, glancing at Harry and Neville before looking quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. Harry noticed he had an odd black mark on his nose.

"Hey Ron!" Said two voices as one as two older looking boys entered the compartment. They were clearly related to Ron, as they had the same flaming red hair and blue eyes, and looked quite similar. The main difference though was the stature. While Ron was tall and gangly, the two boys, who Harry had noticed seemed to be twins, were shorter and stocky. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train. Lee Jordan's got a massive tarantula down there."

"Right." Mumbled Ron.

The twins looked at Harry and Neville. "Right, introductions!" One of them said cheerfully.

"Fred and George Weasley. This is Ron, our brother." Introduced the other. Harry and Neville both stood before politely shaking hands with the twins.

"Nice to meet you." Said Harry. "I'm Harry Potter, and this is Neville Longbottom."

For several seconds there was silence, complete and absolute, then one of the twins cracked a smile. "You've found yourself a good one little brother!" He said jovially.

"Yeah, good one mate!" Said the other twin, clasping Harry's shoulder.

"Harry Potter! I mean, really?"

Harry sighed before brushing his fringe out of the way, revealing the all to recognizable lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. As soon as he did so, the twins laughter died in their throats and they gaped at him, open mouthed. Behind Harry, Ron Weasley looked as though he had been struck by a bolt of lightning.

"W-well then," said one of the twins, quickly regaining their composure. "nice to meet you Harry, take care of our brother w-will you?"

"See you later then." Said the other, and they left the compartment.

"Well," said Harry, sighing as he retook his seat. "I suppose that went as well as can be expected."

Neville nodded. "I don't know how you're going to deal with that. It would drive me mad."

Harry shrugged. "Will probably do me too, but I don't have much choice, do I?"

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out, causing Harry and Neville to look at him as Harry nodded, showing Ron his scar the same way he had the twins. "Oh, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes." Said Ron. "So that's where You-Know-Who..." Said Ron, gesturing to Harry's scar.

Neville looked mildly annoyed but it didn't really bother Harry. "Yes." He said. "Can't really remember it though, if you were going to ask."

Ron looked a bit embarrassed but said in a small voice. "Nothing?"

"Well, I can remember a load of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow!" Said Ron, he sat and stared at Harry for a few moments. Then, as though he realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"Are your family all wizards?" Asked Harry, who found Ron nearly as interesting as Ron found him. Neville merely sat and observed, seeming to be testing the waters for now, something that didn't surprise Harry in the least.

"Uh, yeah, I think so." Said Ron. "I think mom's got like a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him. I heard you went and lived with muggles." He added, causing both Harry and Neville to tense. "What are they like?"

"Horrible." Said Harry with conviction. "Well, not all of them, but the ones I had to live with sure were. Wish I'd have had two wizard brothers." Neville smiled sadly at Harry who returned it.

"Five." Said Ron, for some reason he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to; Bill and Charlie have already left. Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was captain of the Quidditch team. Now Percy's a prefect, Fred and George mess around a lot but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do it's not a big deal cause they did it first. You never get anything new either with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand and Percy's old rat." Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat, grey rat who was asleep. "His name is Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for becoming a prefect, but they couldn't affor-I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink, he seemed to have thought he said too much because he suddenly went back to staring out of the window.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with not being able to afford new things." Said Harry quietly, causing Ron's gaze to snap back onto him.

"Y-you don't?" Asked Ron, sounding taken aback.

"Not at all." Said Harry.

"B-but your robes?" He said, gesturing to the immaculate robes adorned with the Potter family crest. "I'd have thought-well, you know — your robes and everything."

Harry laughed humorlessly. "Ron, up until two months ago, I was stuck wearing the worst of my cousins hand me downs, and he's about as tall as you and twice as wide. I was under fed, worked like a house elf and had no idea that magic existed. I don't think there's anything wrong with not having bags of money. If you look at history, some of the most famous and important figures came from nothing, both magical and non magical."

Ron gaped at Harry again. "B-but you're you, aren't you?" He asked, gesturing once again to Harry's forehead as words seemed to fail him.

Harry laughed harshly again. "Don't believe those stupid kids stories. None of them are true."

"Well yeah," said Ron, blushing. "I'd figured that when you didn't have glasses."

Again Harry laughed, though this time there was actually some humour in the gesture. "Well, up until a couple of months ago I did have glasses. But, well, you know ... magic."

Ron smiled, and Neville snickered despite himself, revelling in their favourite inside joke. "You really didn't even know about magic? Or Hogwarts, or anything?" Asked Ron, seeming to still be processing what Harry had just said.

Harry shook his head. "Until I met Neville and his grandmother, Lady Augusta, I had no idea about magic, or my parents, or Voldemort, or any of it."

Ron gasped, and Neville flinched badly. "You said You-Know-Who's name." Said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought that of all people-"

"I'm not trying to show off or anything." Said Harry honestly. "I just never knew up until two months ago, and to be honest, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of being afraid of him."

Ron looked even more impressed. "I bet you'll be brilliant!" Said Ron, smiling. "There are loads of people who come from muggle families and they learn quick enough, and you, well, you know?"

Harry debated telling Ron that he had spent the last two months in a state of obsession over magic, and tell him how hard he had worked, but he didn't bother.

While they had been talking the train had carried them out of London; they were now speeding passed open fields filled with cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flicker past before they made small talk. Ron told them about each of his brothers, his sister, his parents, and how he had grown up playing Quidditch in his backyard, and how he was a die hard supporter of the Chudley Cannons. This devolved into Harry and Ron going off about Quidditch, and Neville becoming considerably lost.

"Got a favourite team?" Asked Ron, sounding curious.

"I like Puddlemere." Said Harry, who had taken a liking to Puddlemere seeker, Joseph Parker.

"Parker?" Asked Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I've flown loads in the last month and I love playing seeker, and Parker is brilliant!"

Ron nodded grudgingly. "Best in the world for sure." He said, causing Harry to smile.

It was Neville's turn to share next. He didn't mention his parents, but he spoke of growing up with his gran and uncle and told of the story of how he had discovered his magic. Ron and Neville were both in fits, Harry smiled indulgently, but the indication of potential abuse hit far too close to home for him. As they talked, Neville seemed to grow a bit more comfortable with Ron. The other boy was just an open book, had a talent for making others laugh, and was just easy to get along with.

Around half past twelve, there was a loud rattling in the corridor, and a smiling dimpled woman slid their door open and asked. "Anything off the cart, dears?" Harry and Neville leapt to their feet at once, eager for some food while Ron muttered something about having packed food. Harry noticed the unhappiness in his voice and locked eyes with Neville, not needing words to communicate their plan, as they took far more than they could eat, planning on splitting with the other boy.

Ron stared at them as Harry and Neville walked back into the compartment, dumping their mounds of spoils onto an empty seat. "Hungry, are you?"

"Starving!" Said Harry, watching Ron carefully as he took a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. Ron took out a lumpy looking package, there were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one apart and groaned.

"She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Oh go on!" Said Harry, smiling as he gestured to the mountain of treats. "We can't eat all this anyway."

Ron hesitated. "Y-you sure?"

"Just take some." Said Harry. Ron looked at Neville, who also smiled back at him. Shrugging and grinning broadly, Ron put the sandwiches back into their packaging, thanked Harry and Neville and ripped into the pile himself.

It was a nice feeling, the three of them sitting their, eating their way through the mountain of food while the sandwiches lay forgotten. "Can you check the card?" Asked Ron as Harry opened a chocolate frog. "I'm missing a Gripper."

"You collect them?" Asked Harry.

Ron nodded. "I've got about five hundred, but haven't got Agrippa or Ptolomy."

Harry unwrapped his chocolate frog and picked up the card. The man in the photo wore half-moon glasses, and had a flowing silver beard and moustache. Underneath the face was the name _Albus Dumbledore. _"So this is Dumbledore." Observed Harry, not quite sure how he felt about the man. On one hand, he had apparently been rather close with Harry's parents, on the other, he had neglected his duties as Harry's magical guardian, and Augusta believed him responsible for Harry's life with the Dursleys.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of Dumbledore?" Asked Ron.

Harry ignored Ron, turned over his card and read:

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbeldore enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling."

Harry turned the card back over and saw that Dumbledore's face had disappeared. "I'll never get over that." Said Harry, showing the empty card to Neville who snickered, remembering the first time a portrait's occupant had vanished, and Harry had nearly gone spare.

"Never get over what?" Asked Ron, opening a chocolate frog of his own.

"The moving and disappearing pictures."

"What do you mean?" Asked Ron, perplexed. "No! I've got a Morgana again! I've got about six of her. Do you want it? You can start collecting?"

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of chocolate frogs waiting to be unwrapped. "Help yourself." Said Harry. "But just so you know — in the muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they?" Asked Ron. "They don't move around at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "Weird!"

Harry glanced down in time to see Dumbledore slide back into his frame and smile up at him. Ron was more interested in eating the chocolate frogs than the cards, but Harry was quite interested by them, looking for names he knew of and trying to memorize the ones which he had never heard of before.

Harry reached back over to the pile and pulled out a package of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, he hadn't seen them before now. "Oh, you want to be careful with those." Ron warned him. "When they say "every flavour", they mean every flavour. You get the normal ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade. But then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he got a bogey flavoured one once."

"Mental." Said Harry under his breath, ripping open the package nonetheless before looking at Neville. "Never seen these before?"

"We never have them." Explained Neville. "Gran says she's had some horrible ones and refuses to eat them."

"Ah." Said Harry as all three took a bean, that did sound like Augusta. Ron bit into his first, a green one.

"Ah! See? Sprouts!"

They had a good time eating the Every Flavour Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked beans, strawberry, curry, grass, sardine and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny grey one that neither Ron nor Neville would touch; which turned out to be pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone, now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills. Neville had a very close call with his toad, but Harry caught it with his superior reflexes. "I dunno why you're so bothered." said Ron darkly. "If I'd brought a toad I'd probably lose it on purpose." Neville flushed but didn't answer. "Mind you," added Ron. "I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk." The rat was still snoozing in Ron's lap. "He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference." Said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to try and make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look."

He rummaged around in his trunk, which Harry noticed was far more basic than either his or Neville's and pulled out a very battered looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end. "Uh, the unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway-" He had just raised his wand when the compartment door opened again. This time, instead of the trolly lady, it was a bushy haired girl who was already dressed in her Hogwarts robes.

"Hello. Does anyone know when we'll be arriving at Hogwarts? No one seems to know, or at least they're not answering me." She had a bossy sort of voice.

"Not a clue." Said Harry, but the girl wasn't paying attention to him, she was looking at the wand in Ron's hand.

"Oh! Are you doing magic? Let's see it then!" She sat down, and Ron looked taken aback.

"Uh, alright." Ron cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisys, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!" He waved his wand but nothing happened.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" Said the girl. "It's not a very good one is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked out for me. No one in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was pleased of course. I've heard it's the very best school of witchcraft there is. I've learned all of our course books by heart of course, well at least the first year portions of them that is. I just hope it will be enough. I'm Hermione Granger by the way, who are you?"

She said all of this very fast. Harry looked at both Neville and Ron and saw they both looked rather stunned and dazed. "This is Neville Longbottom, and this is Ron Weasley." Said Harry, figuring they were in no state to introduce themselves. "I'm Harry Potter, and Ron, that's definitely not a real spell, I know how to change the colour of something, and that's not it."

"Are you really?" Said Hermione, gazing curiously at Harry. "I know all about you of course. I got a few books for background reading and you're in _Modern Magical History, and the Rise and Fall of The Dark Arts _and _The Great Wizarding Events of The Twentieth Century."_

"Yes," said Harry, who had read at least bits of each of them himself. "I suppose I am."

"Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor; it sounds by far the best. I heard Dumbledore himself was in it, though I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad."

"Harry?" Said Ron, shutting up Hermione. "Can you show me that colour changing spell?" He asked awkwardly.

"Er — yeah, alright." Harry reached into the pocket of his robes and withdrew his wand. "Do you actually want me to do it on Scabbers?"

"Yeah, as long as you know how to change him back too. I wanna stick it to Fred and George."

"Yeah, sure, alright then." Harry pointed his wand at Scabbers. "Yellow right?" He asked, and Ron nodded. Envisioning every bit of the rat shifting from grey to yellow, Harry took aim at the rat and cleared his throat. "Flavo." Instantly, every bit of Scabbers began to slowly shift, until the entire rat was yellow except for its eyes, which remained blue.

"Brilliant!" Said Ron as Hermione gaped and Neville applauded, clapping Harry on the back as Harry took his seat.

"Well, that was very good!" Said Hermione. "Well, I've got to be off, see you at Hogwarts! You three should get changed by the way, I reckon we'll be there shortly."

And she left.

'Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it." Said Ron causing Harry and Neville chuckle. "Stupid spell." He muttered. "George gave it to me, bet he knew it'd be a dud."

"Well, at least you can show him up later." Said Harry with a smirk as he put his own wand back into his pocket.

"Your brothers are all Gryffindors, right?" Asked Neville, Ron nodded.

"Mom and dad, too." He said, as gloom seemed to settle over him once more. "I don't know what they'd say if I'm not. I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin." Ron let out an involuntary shudder.

Harry secretly doubted very much that this boy had the characteristics for Slytherin, and he was fairly sure Ron would be happy to hear it, but at the same time he didn't know how to say it in a polite way, so he kept quiet.

"So what do your eldest brothers do now that they've left?" Asked Harry, curious as to what magical hobbies the elder Weasleys may have indulged in.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts." Said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the prophet."

"Really?" Asked Harry, who had neglected to read the prophet as of late. "What happened?"

"Someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry and Neville both stared before Neville asked. "What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news; they haven't been caught. My dad says it must have been a really powerful dark wizard to get past Gringotts security, but they don't think they took anything, that's what makes it odd. Of course everyone gets scared every time they hear something like this in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

At the mention of Voldemort in connection with the robbery, Harry's mind spun. Was it possible that Voldemort had been behind it? What had the goblin said? Something about Voldemort needing to regain a physical form? Harry highly doubted that he could have done it without one, but could he have regained one?

After some more small talk to get their minds off of the potential return of Voldemort, their conversation was interrupted once more, though this time it was not by Hermione or the trolley lady. Three boys pushed the door open and entered the compartment. Harry recognized the middle boy at once, it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he had shown in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" He demanded. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes." Said Harry, who was looking at the other boys; both were thick set and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and Goyle." Said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Ron gave a slight cough which might have been hiding a snicker, and Neville was looking anywhere but at the boy in question. Malfoy looked over at Ron. "You think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are; my father's told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford." He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort, I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it. He liked Ron, and the way he dismissed Neville just like he had in Diagon Alley did not sit well with him either. On top of that, he had talked to Augusta about the Malfoy's, as well as done some reading, and he would not be at all surprised if Lucius Malfoy had willingly taken The Dark Mark. In fact, Harry privately thought he probably had. "I think I can figure that out for myself, thanks."

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his cheeks. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit more polite you'll go the same way as your parents-" But Malfoy didn't finish, for quick as lightning, Harry had drawn his wand and stuck it under Malfoy's chin. Crabbe and Goyle made to step forward, but Neville had stood and pulled his own wand aiming it at Crabbe, and though Ron was only rummaging for his own, Malfoy shot Goyle a look that clearly told him not to advance any further.

"Don't ever mention my parents, Malfoy!" Harry's voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper but it's undertone warned of the harshest repercussions as Harry dug his wand deeper into Malfoy's skin. "Offering an olive branch is one thing, insulting me is another, but you will not insult my parents; and if you do, it will be one of the worst mistakes you make while at Hogwarts." Harry took a step back, but kept his wand leveled, pointed directly between Malfoy's eyes. "Now leave!"

Malfoy did not need to be told twice, as with one last glare at Harry, he gestured for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him, and they left the compartment, all three of them looking borderline murderous.

"That was brilliant Harry!" Said Ron enthusiastically to which Neville nodded in agreement.

"Gran would've loved to see that! Lucius Malfoy's son getting shut up like that. You sure you know what you're doing though?" Neville added, looking cautious.

Harry snorted. "If he thinks I'm afraid of him, he's more delusional then George if he actually thought that spell would work." Ron and Neville both snickered as Harry retook his seat.

"Knowing Malfoy though," said Neville. "he won't take that lying down."

"Neville," said Harry, looking at him intensely. "I'm not giving him the option."

They didn't have long to digest this statement though, for a second later the door opened once more, and Harry drew his wand, ready for Malfoy but it wasn't, instead it was the Granger girl again.

"What has been going on?" She said, looking at Harry with his drawn wand.

"You've met Malfoy before?" Ron asked Harry, cutting off the bushy haired girl who looked rather cross about it.

"Yeah, briefly in Diagon Alley. He was kind of civil then, not like he was there."

"I've heard of his family, I'm guessing you have too by your reaction?"

"Yeah, they were the first to come back over from Voldemort's side at the end of the war." Ron and Neville violently flinched again at the name, and Hermione let out a gasp.

"You said-" she began, but Ron cut her off, his voice a bit shaky.

"Y-yeah, said he'd been bewitched, Lucius Malfoy that is. My dad doesn't believe it, he said Malfoy's father didn't need a reason to go to the dark side." He then turned to Hermione. "Can we help you?"

She was still looking at Harry, jaw hanging agape. She closed her mouth, then opened it again, and then closed it one last time before finally switching topics. "You better hurry up and put your robes on! I've just been up front and the driver said we'll be there shortly. You haven't been fighting have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there?"

"I don't really think that's any of your business if we have or not." Said Harry, politely, but with a bit of force, causing the girl to blush.

"Would you mind leaving then, you know, while we changed?" Asked Ron, making the girl blush even deeper.

"Alright! I only came in here because people outside are acting very childishly, racing up and down the corridors." Said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you have dirt on your nose by the way, did you know?" Ron glared at her as she left.

Harry peered out of the window, it was getting dark, he could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down. He and Neville switched out of their robes, while Ron took off his jacket, all three of them replacing their previous attire with the standard Hogwarts robes; Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see a bit of ankle above his sneakers.

A voice echoed through the train. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train. It will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched, Neville became far more fidgety than before, and Ron, Harry saw, looked far more pale under his freckles. Harry filled his pockets with the rest of his sweets and joined the throng outside in the corridor. The train finally started to slow down before coming to a stop, and people began shoving their way towards the door and out onto a tiny dark platform.

Harry shivered in the cold damp air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a deep, yet cheerful voice call out. "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! Alright there, Harry!" Harry looked over towards the source of the voice and his jaw fell open. The man was huge, he seemed too big to be allowed. Feet taller than any man Harry had ever met and at least twice as wide.

"That's Hagrid." Said Ron, nodding towards the giant man. "My brothers have told me about him. Apparently he's actually quite nice. Charlie got on well with him."

Harry nodded fairly, wondering but not daring to ask how the man was so — well, large.

"Come on follow me!" The giant… Hagrid boomed. "Firs' years follow me. Watch yer step now. Firs' years follow me!" Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep narrow path. It was so dark that they couldn't see more than a few feet in any direction, but Harry thought there must have been thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. "You'll get yer firs' sight of Hogwarts in a sec!" Hagrid called over his shoulder. "Jus round this bend up 'ere."

There was a loud "ahh!" A narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Arched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkly in the starry sky was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. Harry had seen pictures in his book, _Hogwarts a History,_ but as beautiful as those pictures had been, their beauty paled in comparison to the true wonder of the real thing, live in person.

"Alright, no more than four to a boat." Came Hagrid's booming voice as he pointed to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water near the shore. Harry, Ron, and Neville were followed into their boats by another boy who Harry did not know.

"Dean Thomas." The other boy said, offering his hand to each of them in turn. He was a dark skinned boy with dark brown hair and hazel eyes, he was also very tall for their age, about the same height as Ron, with an athletic build.

Each of them introduced themselves in turn and when Harry did so, Dean's eyes widened. "Are you really?" He asked, Harry nodded. "Sorry about, you know, your parents."

It suddenly struck Harry that out of all of the people who had found out who he was, Dean was the first to say this, and though he knew in many cases the comment was cliched as being insincere, he couldn't help but appreciate the other boy's sentiment. "Thank you." Said Harry, and they fell silent.

The fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the small, dark lake which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. "Heads down!" Yelled Hagrid as the first boats neared the cliff. The boats moved on, carrying them through a curtain of ivy and through a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried through a dark tunnel which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle until they reached a kind of underground harbour, at which point they clambered out onto the rocks and pebbles. Trevor, Neville's toad made another go again, but this time it was Ron who snagged it, a bit exasperatedly, and handed it back to a relieved looking Neville.

They clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto a smooth, damp patch of grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a set of stone steps and crowded around the huge oak front door.

"Everyone 'ere? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. The door swung open at once. A tall, black haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall." Announced Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She pulled the door wide. The Entrance Hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed the first-years into a small empty chamber off the hall.

They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you." stated Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron and Neville, nothing on the ceremony had been written in _Hogwarts a History._

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learnt and wondering which one she'd need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He'd never been more nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teacher's wig blue. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom.

"I doubt they'll make us do a test." He whispered at last. "That hardly seems fair. The muggle borns would be at a pretty hefty disadvantage."

"That's society though, isn't it?" Asked Neville, who by now appeared as if he may be sick.

Then something happened which made him jump about a foot in the air – several people behind him screamed.

"What the-?"

He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other and hardly glancing at the first-years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying. "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?" A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first-years. Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "the Sorting Ceremony is about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first-years. 'and follow me.'

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the Hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.

Professor McGonagall led the first-years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, while the teachers were behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper. "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she placed a pointed wizard's hat. The hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty, Aunt Petunia would have never let it in the house. Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it too. For a few seconds there was complete silence, then the hat twitched, a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and the hat began to sing.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

"You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

"You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

"Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

"So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole crowd burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to all four tables before it became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat?" Ron asked Harry. "I'll kill Fred! He was going on about wrestling a troll!" Harry snickered despite himself, and he heard Neville crack up as well.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name you will step forward and sit on the stool to be sorted." She said. "Abbott, Hannah."

A pink faced girl with blonde pigtails staggered out of the line, put on the hat, which fell right over her eyes, and sat down.

A moment's pause. "HUFFLEPUFF!" Shouted the hat. The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of The Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan."

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Shouted the hat again and Susan went off to sit with Hannah.

"Boot, Terry."

"RAVENCLAW!" The table second from the left clapped this time. Several students stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

Brocklehurst, Mandy joined Ravenclaw too, but Brown, Lavender became the first Gryffindor. The table furthest to the left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

Bullstrode, Milicent then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination after all he had heard about Slytherins but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot. He was definitely beginning to feel sick now. He remembered being picked for teams in gym at his old school, he'd always been chosen last, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, other times it took longer to decide. Finnigan Seamus, the sandy haired boy next to Harry sat on the stool for nearly a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger Hermione."

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly onto her head. She sat on the stool for a long time, longer than anyone thus far before finally, the hat made a decision.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

A horrible thought struck Harry, causing him to miss the next few sorting. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and that he better get back on the train.

When Neville was finally called, Harry felt his heart rate quicken, and judging by the boy's appearance, Harry didn't even want to know how he felt. He clapped Neville on the back and whispered "good luck" before Neville slowly made his way up to the stool. If Harry thought the hat had taken its time with Hermione, it was really in no hurry with Neville. He sat on the stool for multiple minutes before it finally made its proclamation.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and smiled jovially despite the situation at the look of pure glee and victory that adorned Neville's face.

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish almost at once. The hat had barely touched his head when it screamed.

"SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy went off to join his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. Moon, Nott, Parkinson, and then a pair of twin girls, Patil and Patil then, Perks, Sallian, and then at last.

"Potter, Harry."

As Harry stepped forwards whispers broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat fell over his eyes was the whole hall craning their necks to get a good look at him. TheNnext second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

'Hmm,' said a small voice in his ear. 'difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage I see, excellent mind as well! Among the best here, if not top of the list! There's talent, oh my goodness yes, and a nice thirst to prove yourself, that's interesting. So, where do I put you?'

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought. 'Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.'

'Not Slytherin, huh? Are you sure? You could be great you know. It's all here in your head, and Slytherin would help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that. Well if you're sure, we're down to two. As I said, you have a fantastic mind, and you would thrive in Ravenclaw. I don't know how happy you would be there though, so it better be' "GRYFFINDOR!" Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall.

He took off the hat and walked shakily towards the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have been chosen, and put in Gryffindor no less that he hardly noticed he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Ron's older brother Percy stood up and shook Harry's hand vigorously while the twins, Fred and George screamed. "WE GOT POTTER! WE GOT POTTER!"

Harry sat down across from the ghost in the ruff he saw earlier, the ghost patted his arm; giving it the sudden horrible feeling of being plunged into a bucket of ice cold water. His seat was also directly beside Neville, who squeezed Harry's shoulder as he positively beamed at his friend as Harry beamed back. He could see the high table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him a thumbs up, Harry grinned back. And there in the center of the high table, in a large gold chair sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the chocolate frog card he had gotten on the train, and yet again felt a number of conflicting emotions bouncing around inside his head.

Now there were only four people left to be sorted. Dean Thomas, the boy Harry had met out on the lake joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. Lisa Turpin became a Ravenclaw, and then it was Ron's turn. He looked deathly pale now as he sat down on the stool, Harry crossed his fingers under the table and a second later the hat shouted. "GRYFFINDOR!" Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair on Harry's other side.

"Well done, Ron!" Said Percy pompously as Blaise Zabini was made a Slytherin.

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took both the stool and the hat away. Harry looked down at his empty gold plate, he had only just realized how hungry he was, the pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome." he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he - a bit mad?" he asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

"That does look good..." said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak,

"Can't you-?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost wistfully. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you - you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy -" The ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?" Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this!" he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said. "So - new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable - he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked." said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding -

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him." The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" said Seamus.

Harry tensed, but Neville answered valiantly, and didn't give the slight indication of anything being off. "Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville. "but the family thought I was a squib for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me - he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned - but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. Luckily I bounced - all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got accepted here - they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

Harry internally sighed again at the tale. He had never met Neville's uncle, but he did not have a positive view of the man; not in the slightest.

On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione Granger were talking about lessons. "I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else. Of course, it's supposed to be very difficult-";

"You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing-'

Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. A man in an absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past his turbaned companion straight into Harry's eyes - and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N-nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look - a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.

"Who's that teacher talking to the bloke in the turban?" he asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to - everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape does."

Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at him again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. The list of banned items has also been expanded. The complete list can be found posted on Mr. Filch's door."

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy.

"Must be." said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere - the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore. "and off we go!" And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music." he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much further they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him. "Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "a poltergeist." He raised his voice. "Peeves - show yourself!"

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. "Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks. "Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!" He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed. "You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "the Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him — aside from Dumbledore. He won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. "Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it - Neville needed a leg up - and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room; a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase - they were obviously in one of the towers - they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

"Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings. "Get off, Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets."

"Oh yeah!" Said Harry, grudgingly getting back to his feet. "Do you want me to change him back now?"

Ron waved him off. "Haven't had a chance to show the twins yet. We'll do it after class tomorrow."

Harry nodded and was going to ask Ron if he'd had any of the treacle tart, but he fell asleep almost at once.

Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully - and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it -then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold - there was a burst of green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking.

He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.

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**Authors Endnote: **

**Well, None of you can criticize this one for not being long enough. Longest chapter I've ever written, even if some of it was a direct copy from the first book. J.K Rowling owns that material, it just adds to the feel of the story.**

**Finally got them to Hogwarts at any rate. Let the games begin!**

**Please read and review.**


	6. TSR Ch 6: Meetings and Magic

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.**

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story.**

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.**

**The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.**

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

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**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 6: Meetings and Magic.**

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**September 2nd 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Gryffindor First Year Dormitories.**

**5:28 AM. **

Harry felt quite groggy when he awoke for real on the morning after his arrival at Hogwarts. For a moment he expected to awake in his room at Longbottom manor, but a second later he realized where he was, prompting a small smile to break through his groggy demeanour.

He pulled open the curtain around his four-poster and reached for his wand on the bedside table. "Tempus." He muttered, tapping his wand on his wrist, causing the time to display in analog form in front of him. It was a useful little charm that Augusta had showed to both him and Neville. Harry groaned quietly upon seeing the time, it was quite early, still just before six in the morning; breakfast didn't even start until seven, and he personally doubted that Neville, a rather heavy sleeper, would be up to make the opening minutes of the meal.

Deciding on an early morning shower to hopefully help to shake off his drowsiness, Harry fished a set of Hogwarts robes out of his trunk as well as his bottle of hair care potion. It was something Augusta had been rather insistent upon, citing that a true wizard shouldn't look like it had been dragged out of bed by its hair and dropped head first into a lake. Smiling tiredly at the memory, Harry made his way into the bathroom that was connected to their dormitory. Unlike any bathroom he had come across at Longbottom manor, it was nothing extravagant. Though it was quite large, what it did thankfully have in common with its counterparts in Neville's ancestral home was that the water automatically adjusted to the user's preference, something that Harry privately thought may very well be his favourite thing about the magical world thus far.

He didn't take long to shower, having never been afforded the luxury of long showers with the Dursleys, it was not a habit he had fallen into. He dressed quickly and crept back into the dorm room, no one else was awake yet. As quietly as he could, Harry extracted his bottomless school bag from his trunk, already filled with his textbooks and made his way down to the common room below. He was the first one in the room and therefore selected one of the comfortable armchairs nearest the fire, a luxury he had seen the older students monopolizing the night previous before heading off to bed. He rummaged in his bag for a moment before removing _Magical Theory_ and settling down to read. It was not for twenty minutes that anybody else made their way down to the common room, the first other person being Ron's older brother — Percy; who greeted Harry politely but also took a seat to read. It wasn't until nearly twenty five minutes after that, now around seven o'clock, that somebody finally said anything to Harry.

"Don't tell me the apparently famous Harry Potter is a nerd." Harry looked up, mildly taken aback until he saw the smirking face of the tall dark skinned boy from the night previous — Dean had been his name — Dean Thomas.

"Try me on a broomstick and then ask that again." Said Harry, smiling challengingly back up at Dean in response. He just laughed before taking a seat beside Harry.

"Nah, never been on one in my life, you'd probably fly circles around me."

"I'd never been on one either until a month ago," defended Harry. "but yeah, I would definitely fly circles around you."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, but I bet I'd dribble circles around you in a game of football."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look at your legs and look at mine, you could probably just run and keep control of the ball and I'd never catch you."

"It's not my fault I'm special!" Defended Dean in mock outrage, causing Harry to smile almost predatorily at him.

"Oh, you're special alright, Thomas, no doubt about that."

The other boy burst into laughter and Harry joined in. "Alright, alright," said Dean, throwing up his hands in mock surrender, "I stand down, I stand down. Not bad Potter, maybe you're not a total nerd after all."

"Nope," said Harry. "just a high achiever."

The two of them laughed again, and Harry was liking the other boy more by the minute. "Alright then mister high-achiever," challenged Dean. "what subject are you most looking forward to then?"

"Defense Against The Dark Arts." Answered Harry at once, though he did not tell Dean that was because he figured it would be the most useful in preparing him to finish off Voldemort. "You?"

"I like the idea of Transfiguration;" admitted Dean. "turning something into something else completely just sounds mental for someone coming from the muggle world."

"I know what you mean," said Harry, drawing a slightly confused look from Dean. "I grew up mostly in the muggle world." Harry said, his voice polite but making it as clear as possible that he would rather Dean not ask any further questions on the subject.

Dean smiled. "Cool! It'll be nice having someone else understand my references and such. I think the other bloke — Seamus is his name, is half blood though, so he might know a bit too."

"The Granger girl is a muggle born." Said Harry, remembering her monologue from the train ride the day previous. "Ron and Neville are both ignorant pureblood prats though." He said with a mocking smirk, causing both him and Dean to laugh again.

"Who's your football team then?" Asked Dean eagerly and they were off, even though Harry didn't have a lot to add to the conversation beyond major players and the actual rules of the sport.

A time later, Neville and Ron trudged their way down the stairs, both of them carrying their school bags, both looking dishevelled.

"Morning gentlemen!" Greeted Dean cheerfully, causing both Ron and Neville to respond far less so. Moments later the four of them were out of the portrait hole and into the halls of Hogwarts. From the moment they stepped outside, Harry became the center of attention, drawing looks, double takes, and even loud murmuring from those they passed. Many of them gawked at him or his scar, some even doubled back on their way to breakfast in order to get a better look at him.

The stares made Harry a bit uncomfortable. Neville must have been able to tell, because he walked in front of Harry, glaring openly at any who gawked at him. His display did nothing to deter them, but Harry felt oddly touched by the gesture.

They didn't get quite as lost as Harry had suspected they might on their way down to breakfast, but he figured that was in large part because they had for the most part just followed the crowd of people. They arrived in the hall in fairly decent time, still with almost an hour before the start of their first lesson at nine o'clock; Herbology down in the greenhouses, something Harry was quite happy about as he figured it would be rather difficult to wind up too lost on their way to that particular class.

"This place is a sight in daylight, isn't it?" Asked Ron, gesturing to the light streaming into the hall both from the large glass windows as well as the enchanted ceiling above.

"It's a right wonder!" Agreed Dean, his eyes roaming over the hall in an almost trance like manner.

Harry, as well as most of the other first years, received quite the shock when several hundred owls streamed into the hall, all of whom seemed to be bearing letters or packages from home.

"It happens every day," said Ron casually. "my brothers told me. It's not usually this many apparently, first day and all."

Harry nor any of his friends received any mail, though he could see Draco Malfoy showing off to his fellow Slytherin first years what appeared to be a box of chocolates as he absently stroked a regal looking eagle owl which sat in front of him.

"Git." Muttered Ron, who's eyes had seemed to follow Harry's to the Slytherin table.

"What'd he do to you?" Asked Dean, sounding more curious than accusatory.

"Oh, not much," said Ron darkly. "just insulted the whole of my family and basically said Harry's parents deserved what they got." Dean winced. "Oh," said Ron, sounding like he had forgotten something important. "and did I tell you his dad was a Death Eater?"

"A what?" Asked Dean, sounding confused.

"One of Voldemort's followers." Said Harry, causing both Neville and Ron to wince horribly and Dean's eyes to go wide. "Oh come off it!" Exclaimed Harry to Dean. "You're a muggle born! Don't tell me you're already afraid to say Voldemort's name too?"

"Uh," said Dean, sounding unsure. "no, I guess not, I've just never heard anyone refer to him by his name before. They don't even like writing it from what I've seen."

"Cowards, the lot of them." Muttered Harry, drawing an awed look from Ron and an oddly proud, delightfully wistful look from Neville.

"Did he — that boy, really say that stuff to you guys?" Asked Dean, clearly trying to divert the conversation away from Voldemort.

"Yup," said Harry. "said if I didn't find better friends I'd go the same way my parents went." He rolled his eyes. "Funny thing is, he said it with two blokes standing next to him who look like they could be pro wrestlers, and they're our age. Kind of hard to take him seriously when he needs a couple of bodyguards around."

"What happened?" Asked Dean, looking concerned as his eyes fell on Malfoy and his massive companions. "What did he do after that?"

"Bollocks!" Said Ron, all of a sudden seeming a lot brighter. "Harry had his wand out faster than the idiot could finish his rant. I'll never forget it:" Ron screwed up his face, trying to mime a dangerous look of warning. "if you ever talk about my parents again," he said in what Harry thought was a bad imitation of his voice. "it will be one of the worst mistakes you make while at Hogwarts." Ron burst out laughing, as did Dean, while Neville was trying not to crack up and even Harry smiled. "It was brilliant!"

"I still say you might have made an enemy though." Said Neville a bit warily.

"Don't care." Said Harry honestly. "That prat deserved it, I won't let anyone say anything bad about my parents and that's not even considering his dad was probably a Death Eater."

The rest of the meal passed without incident and Harry, Ron, Dean, and Neville found their way down to the greenhouses without much issue. They were greeted by Hermione Granger and most of the first years from Hufflepuff, though they still had to wait several minutes for the rest of the first year Gryffindors to arrive. A moment later, a short, plump woman with flyaway grey hair exited from the nearest greenhouse and smiled warmly at all of them, gesturing for them to proceed with her into the greenhouse from which she had just exited.

"Welcome," she greeted them all once they had all taken seats at one of the tables, the four of them, Harry, Ron, Dean, and Neville got a table together. "to your first class at Hogwarts. My name is Professor Sprout, I am head of Hufflepuff House as half of you already know and I will be your Herbology professor at this school for at least the next five years, after which you may or may not continue to take this course after the completion of your Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations at the end of your fifth year — yes, Ms...?"

"Granger, Professor." Supplied Hermione, causing Ron to roll his eyes. The professor nodded, silently prompting Hermione Granger to proceed with her question. "What are Ordinary Wizarding Levels, Professor?"

"An excellent question, Ms. Granger." said Professor Sprout with an approving nod. "Ordinary Wizarding Levels, or O.W.L's for short, are a very important examination that all Hogwarts students must take at the end of their fifth year. These exams, one theoretical and one practical for each course, will serve as a test of how proficient each of you are at a given subject come the end of your fifth year. The results of the tests will dictate which classes you may, and in some cases may not continue. This is extremely important because certain jobs within the magical world require certain grades on your Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests, or N.E.W.T's for short, which will be written at the end of your seventh year. Naturally, one would not have the required grade to continue in say Herbology if they did not receive an Acceptable on their O.W.L, which is the minimum grade required to proceed with this course. The grades needed to continue a course will vary based on the courses themselves."

"What are all of the grades professor?" Asked Hermione once more, her hand punching the air at top speed.

"The passing grades, in order of lowest to highest are acceptable, exceeds expectations and outstanding. There are pluses and minuses for each grade as well, though an O+ is extremely rare before any of you get your hopes up. It is usually seen only once every few years at the school and requires a student to perform tasks of their own choosing beyond the scope of the examination to prove their prowess." There was some muttering and Hermione Granger looked very much as if she wanted nothing more than to achieve an O+ on every single one of her O.W.L's, and for that matter, any of her exams period.

"The failing grades," continued Professor Sprout once their muttering had died out. "in order from most acceptable to least acceptable are poor, dreadful and troll. If a troll is received in a class, the student must retake the entire year, if one of the other two grades are given, it is up to the teachers discretion whether the student should have to repeat. In most cases the student will just be given extra assignments based upon the previous year's work to make sure they are up to speed.

"Now," she said, rubbing her hands together. "Herbology is far more than it may seem. It is work that can sometimes require resilience and brute force and other times require caution and extreme precision and care. Some of the plants we will encounter in later years could very well be the most dangerous things you cross paths with while at this school." A few people snickered, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, who sat at the table nearest the quartet were among them. "Oh? You think I am joking?" Asked Professor Sprout, her large eyebrows nearly disappearing into her greying hair. "Well, can anyone tell me a plant that could potentially kill a witch or wizard?"

At this, the class fell silent as Hermione's hand punched the air, though so did a few others, Harry looked at Neville questioningly, sure that the other boy knew of several but he merely blushed, clearly too nervous to offer the information. As Hermione's hand was first into the air, Professor Sprout pointed to her.

"Devil's Snare." Answered Hermione at once, drawing a smile from Professor Sprout. Harry was sure he had heard the term before but could not remember the specifics, he looked questioningly across the table to Neville.

"It's the one you said was the scariest Venus...whatever you called it, that you had ever seen." Harry had to bury his face in his shirt to hide his laughter. Yes, he remembered now, and he had indeed referred to the plant as the most dangerous Venus Fly Trap that he had ever seen.

Professor Sprout had evidently asked Hermione to explain what the plant did and she did, explaining how the plant would react to any contact and attempt to trap the victim, no matter what it may be, in its thick vines and strangle it to death. This certainly sobered up the girls at their neighbouring table.

"Correct," said Professor Sprout, "five points to Gryffindor. Can anyone tell me, for another five points, what one would do if caught in the Devil's Snare? Or, for another five points, how we may get rid of it or even kill it?"

Harry's hand raised now, as did Hermione's and Neville's, who seemed to be spurred on by his friend. Harry actually remembered this part, as it was the first thing he asked Neville about the plant, wanting a defense for anything that could be used against him in the future.

Professor Sprout's eyes found him almost at once. "Mr. Potter." She prompted, not even needing to ask his name. The whole class fell silent and Harry had to try very hard not to roll his eyes.

"If the plant gets ahold of you, don't struggle. Struggling will only cause the plant to trap you faster. You can make the plant retreat by conjuring light with the Lumos spell and fire is fatal to the plant, so if you knew how to conjure that, you could get rid of it pretty easily."

"Excellent! Take ten more points for Gryffindor…"

And the lesson continued much in the same vein. They did nothing practical on that day, only discussing a rough outline for the year to come, something that he would go through once again later that day with Professor Sinistra up in the astronomy tower. She explained that they would stargaze every Wednesday night, or Thursday morning if you preferred, at midnight and that they would spend their Tuesday lesson on theoretical portions of the class.

They had lunch after Astronomy and then they were introduced to by far the most boring subject offered at Hogwarts, that being History of Magic. Though in Harry's opinion, this had nothing to do with the course content and everything to do with the professor in charge of it.

Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. This was Harry's first real let down at Hogwarts, as he found magical history to be fascinating, but even he couldn't keep up with Binns's monotone drawl.

They had a break after History, which Harry and his friends spent exploring the castle, nearly getting themselves in a ton of trouble in the process when the caretaker, Mr. Filch found them unknowingly trying to force their way passed a door that apparently led to the out of bounds corridor on the third floor, the one that Dumbledore had said would result in a "very painful death".

After they were rescued from Filch by a very odd and nervous professor by the name of Quirrell, they trekked through the castle, only arriving a few minutes late for Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration professor and Head of Gryffindor House let them off seeing as it was the first day, as well as the fact that over half of their classmates had fallen victim to the same fate. Hermione Granger was there though, and she glared at them as if they had committed a criminal felony. When everyone was finally gathered around, Professor McGonagall turned her desk into a pig and back, allowing the applause to permeate through the room for a number of moments before she cleared her throat and began her lesson.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she stated firmly. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

When no one moved or said anything, Professor McGonagall started the lesson itself.

"In short, Transfiguration is not as simple as it may sound. Transfiguration is not simply turning one object into another through the wave of one's wand. It requires a great deal of mental awareness, concentration and visualization. If you truly want to master the art of transfiguration, I must inform you it will require a great deal of discipline on your part and will involve quite a lot of self study."

Harry could see Hermione leaning forward, looking as if she were a piece of metal being drawn towards a magnet. Harry didn't flinch at McGonagall's warning, he knew this already, not only had he read a great deal about it, Augusta seemed to favour this particular branch of magic.

"Furthermore," continued the deputy headmistress. "turning one thing into another through the use of incantation, blended with mental preparation, is only one small section of the overarching art of transfiguration. There are four branches of transfiguration, each branch contains its own smaller sub branches, for example, human transfiguration would be a sub branch of transformation. The four major branches of Transfiguration are transformation, untransfiguration, vanishment and conjuration. As you may be able to imagine, transformation is the branch which is concerned with transfiguring an object into something different and its opposing branch, untransfiguration, involves recognizing if an object is transfigured and reverting it back to its original state.

"The other two branches also juxtapose one another, that is to say they are opposites. Conjuration is the word that describes the magic involved in creating something that was not there before. For example," she waved her wand, causing a flock of birds to rush from the end of it, tweeting happily as they flew around the room. "that was a conjuration, it is usually the first one you will learn as a matter of fact. Vanishment," she continued. "is the name for the magic required in making something vanish, as the name suggests." She gave a long sweep of her wand and the birds disappeared. "Are there any questions?"

Predictably, Hermione Granger's hand was in the air in an instant and Professor McGonagall pointed at her. "You mentioned sub branches, Professor. Could you explain a bit about those?"

"Certainly," said Professor McGonagall. "it is not something we will delve into for several years, but yes, I can give you a background. A sub branch of Transfiguration, as the name suggests, is a branch within a branch for lack of a better phrase. It is a part of Transfiguration that falls under one of the four main branches but still carries significance. For example; human transfiguration, that is to say, transforming at least one part of the human body using magic, would be a sub branch of transformation as I have said already. There are deeper concepts as well, nano branches and femto branches for example. I will not go into detail on these now, as they are rather more advanced than your current level, but you may look into them privately if you would like…"

By the time the first years left the class, even the brightest among them found their heads spinning with all of the new information. They had not even got to perform any practical magic yet, though Professor McGonagall assured them that they would do so on Wednesday during their double period. Despite his memory, Harry was thankful he had taken notes. Clearly his friends were as well, as all three of them eagerly asked him to share as soon as they left the class. He agreed at once, drawing an irritated look from Hermione Granger as she strode past him.

"Bit stuck up that one." Commented Dean, causing Ron to mutter "only a bit?" under his breath. Harry shrugged, he wasn't really bothered one way or another if he was telling the truth and judging by the look on Neville's face, the round faced boy shared Harry's sentiment.

"Dinner now, right?" Asked Ron, bringing the topic back to something that Harry was beginning to realize was quite dear to his heart.

"Yeah," said Harry. "don't suppose anyone remembers how to get back down to the Great Hall?" It turned out that all of them had varying amounts of memory in terms of the path to dinner, but when combined, the strands fit together pretty well. When dinner was finished Harry got to his feet and grabbed his bag.

"Where are you going?" Asked Neville, looking curious.

"I'm going to go practice some actual magic." He said with a smile, it was something he hadn't really been able to do during the summer break, so he was intending on doing quite a bit of it now. "You guys can come if you want."

Neville was at his side in an instant. Dean seemed to be contemplating his options but Ron let out a yawn. "I just need to relax." He said, looking at Dean. "Are you going with them, or are you up for a game of chess?"

Dean seemed to consider his options. "Do you mind if I go with them?"

"Nah, it's fine." Said Ron, prompting Dean, Harry and Neville to leave the Great Hall. They did not get too far before Ron caught up with them, saying that he had changed his mind.

They found an abandoned classroom not far from the Great Hall. Harry started off with Wingardium Leviosa, the levitation spell. The other three joined in but weren't overly successful, none of them managed much at all, though Dean did manage to get a quill to twitch several times. After that, Harry began trying to transfigure his quill, nothing major, just make small additions here and there. To his surprise it went rather well, though he had a rather unorthodox strategy when it came to transfiguration, that being to envision the change as if it were happening in front of him as opposed to the end result. The others tried this but made no progress at all, something that seemed to discourage Neville, but the other two just laughed it off.

"Well it's our first day," pointed out Ron. "magic takes practice, we'll get it." He mock glared at Harry. "Not all of us can be the magical mastermind that defeated You-Know-Who as a toddler, can we?"

* * *

**September 3rd 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**1st Year Gryffindor Boys Dormatory.**

**5:07 AM.**

Harry awoke the next morning a bit less groggy than the previous day, though that was in large part due to the fact he had just awoken from a rather vivid nightmare. He was breathing heavily. As far as he could tell all of the other boys were still asleep, but he needed to find a way to make sure he didn't wake everyone in the middle of the night. He showered and dressed much like the morning previous, but feeling more adventurous, he set out on a little expedition to find the library. It was only a bit past five, but Harry figured that by the time he got there it would be at least six and the library would be open.

Sure enough, by the time he found the library it was nearly half past, and Harry began to scour the shelves for something that may help him block out his cries in the night. Eventually Harry found a rather thick tome titled _Charms For The Charmed_ which he signed out, causing the librarian, a hawk like woman by the name of Madam Pince, to look rather sceptical; she seemed to think the book was a bit beyond his current level but Harry didn't care.

He managed to get to the Great Hall in decent time, something that impressed him greatly. He was also pleased to see that Neville, Ron and Dean were all sitting together and Neville had saved Harry a seat beside him.

"Where were you?" Asked Ron, sounding as if he had been dying to ask the question for some time now.

"In the library." Answered Harry, taking out his potion and drinking it quickly before pulling a bit of toast towards him.

"What's that for anyway?" Asked Ron indicating the potion. "I've seen you drinking it before but I never asked." Harry frowned and the red-head backtracked quickly. "I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't-"

"I had some health issues over the summer." Said Harry. "It's just meant to correct some of the side effects, that's all. They were fairly major so I might be on it for awhile." Ron nodded and flushed a bit, seeming a bit ashamed for asking.

"Sorry, it's just-"

"It's fine," said Harry, waving him off. "I'd probably have asked the same thing." Actually, Harry wasn't sure if he would've, but he was quite sure that the majority of people in the castle, and probably in the world for that matter would have, so he could hardly hold it against Ron, especially when he had swallowed the lie so easily.

That day was mostly uneventful. It was a pretty open day, they only had Charms and Herbology, though they were both double periods. Harry was looking forward to Charms, but it didn't get off to the best start for him as upon reading his name on the attendance list, Professor Flitwick, their diminutive Charms professor, fell off his stack of books with a squeak and Harry couldn't help but feel both embarrassed and oddly guilty. He had to hand it to the professor though, Flitwick just got up with an abashed smile and brushed himself off, turning to the class as if nothing of interest had just happened.

"Hello everyone," he said excitedly, his voice was rather high, definitely more so than normal. "I am Professor Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw House and Charms professor at this school. I'm sure your other professors have already lectured you on the importance of their classes in relation to the O.W.L exams, so I'll spare you from exam talk and stick strictly to the topic of this class." Several people actually applauded, led by Dean. Harry, Ron and Neville joined in, as did pretty much everybody except Hermione Granger and another first year Gryffindor girl who was rather plain looking and seemed extremely shy — Eloise maybe?

"Charms," Began the professor once the noise had died down, though he too was smiling. "is perhaps the most important class you will take while at this school. For most of you, it will likely be the branch of magic that you use the most in your lifetime as it has countless implementations in day to day life and almost anything can be achieved with a charm. On top of that, charms have deep roots in other subjects, Defense Against The Dark Arts being a prime example, as many of the jinxes and hexes that you will learn could be categorized as charms. The stunning and disarming spells for example, though I don't believe you will learn either this year. Furthermore, Charms is one of the five foundational branches of magic itself along with Potions, Transfiguration, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes." Hermione's hand hit the air causing Ron to sigh dramatically. "Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"Sir, why are they called the foundational branches of magic? And what are the last two? They're not on our timetable; if they're so important, surely we should learn them as well?"

Flitwick smiled. "To answer your first question, Ms. Granger, they are called the five foundational branches of magic because almost anything that can be achieved through magic can be done so through some components of one or more of these arts. As for your second question, you will learn about Ancient Runes and Arithmancy if you choose them as electives in your third year."

"But, sir," she insisted, her hand still in the air. "if they're so important, surely they should be mandatory classes?"

"Ancient Runes and Arithmancy are not for everyone, Ms. Granger." Responded the professor. "They are both extremely complex and delicate branches of magic that require a great deal of prowess. If you would like to delve deeper into the topics, I encourage you to do so, my door is always open to anyone with questions, but I think they would be a bit beyond your current level of knowledge, with all due respect."

For the rest of the class, Flitwick lectured on the absolute basics of Charms, mostly on safety and a bit on wand movements. He explained how both the grip on the wand as well as the movement could and would influence casting and how certain types of spells often shared wand movements with spells of a similar variety. Harry already knew all of this from reading _Magical Theory_, but the topic as a whole interested him quite a bit. Unfortunately, Flitwick ended the lesson on two major downs, telling them that they would not be attempting any practical magic for quite some time and also assigning them their first bit of homework, that being to summarize the day's lesson.

The class left a bit discouraged, but Harry and his group were at least looking forward to the next day, where they would have their first Defense Against The Dark Arts class. It turned out that Harry was not alone in his excitement and enthusiasm for the class.

Unfortunately, it largely fell short of his admittedly lofty expectations.

Professor Quirrell had seemed a bit nervous to Harry in the corridor on the first day of classes when he had rescued his group from Filch, but after being exposed to Quirrell for a longer period of time, Harry realized that he hadn't understood the half of it. Quirrell was borderline useless as an instructor, stumbling over his words and seeming to struggle to put basic thoughts into coherent sentences. Harry left the class feeling thoroughly discouraged, but as Neville told him, Ron, and Dean, at least they had their first practical lesson when it came to wand work to look forward to, that being their first Transfiguration double of the year, where Professor McGonagall had promised that they would attempt to turn matchsticks into needles.

As a result of this, it was a rather excited bunch of first year Gryffindors that entered the class and mercifully this time no one had the misfortune of being late. Professor McGonagall strode into the room a moment before the bell rang to signify the start of class. When it did, she turned to them, nodding approvingly at their punctuality before beginning without preamble.

"I promised you two days ago that today I would give you your first exposure to practical Transfiguration and I intend to do so. First though, there are some more things we must go over…"

She spent several long, agonizing minutes explaining the basics of visualization and its importance in the art. She described it the way Harry had read it, to visualize the final product. This drew him questioning looks from his friends, whom he had explained to how he visualized his transformations. He shrugged, trying to convey the message that he was only doing what worked best for him.

"Now," said McGonagall a time later, waving her wand and causing the words _Composatus Verto _to appear on the blackboard, broken up into its individual syllables. "this is the incantation, and if you turn to page twelve of your textbooks, you will find detailed diagrams on the correct wand movement required for the spell." She waved her wand again, causing her desk drawer to open and for a black box to float out of it and land in front of her. Another flick of her wand caused the lock on the box to click and for the box itself to open, revealing a large number of ordinary matchsticks. "Your task," she instructed. "is to do your utmost best to transfigure a matchstick into a needle. Please do not be discouraged, I have never had a complete transformation on the first day, though I have had several talented students come very close." There was some muttering at this, the professor waited for it to die down before continuing. "Well," she said, looking at all of them. "what are you all waiting for? Begin." The sound of chairs scraping against the classroom floor reverberated throughout the room and Ron volunteered to grab four matchsticks, one for each of them.

"Cheers!" Said Harry, taking his from Ron a minute later with a grateful smile. Harry spent several minutes miming the wand movement in the air, picturing the transformation step by step in as much detail as he could manage. By the time he took a deep breath and raised his wand for real, he was the only one who had not yet attempted the transfiguration.

"Composatus Verto." He said, drawing his wand in a perfect circle through the air before stabbing it towards the matchstick, his eyes still closed. He heard Neville gasp from beside him and he opened his eyes. The matchstick was definitely still a matchstick, but it had taken on an unmistakable tinge of silver. Neville's gasp drew the attention of Professor McGonagall and her eyes honed in on them like those of a hawk before widening when they saw Harry's matchstick.

"Good grief, Mr. Potter," she said as she rushed towards them. "how many attempts did that take you?"

"That was my first attempt, Professor," answered Harry politely. "I was just practicing the wand movement and visualization stage before that."

She looked astonished. "I have only ever seen one other student make any change on their first attempt in all of my years. Good lord, Mr. Potter, that is astounding. Ten points to Gryffindor for an extraordinary achievement." She called a pause to the class, showing them Harry's matchstick and sounding elated.

The class continued on and Harry's next attempt yielded very little, as did his third. On his fourth attempt, the matchstick became pointy, adding onto its silver colour. On his seventh attempt, Harry managed to completely transfigure the matchstick into a needle, if admittedly a rather crude one. Professor McGonagall did not care, she was simply over the moon that he had done it at all and she awarded him another fifteen points. By the end of the lesson, Harry had successfully transfigured six matchsticks into needles, each time the final product became more precise, and the fifth was actually red, something he had added in for a bit of an extra challenge. The only other person who had made any changes to their matchstick was Hermione Granger, who had turned her's pointy and also given it the silver colour Harry's had taken on originally. Dean's was tinged a bit silver as well, something the other boy was rather happy about. It was all about Harry though, something he was no fan of, but at least this time, it was for something he was truly proud of, an achievement that he had worked for and could actually remember. Hermione Granger looked a bit put out, but did come up and congratulate him after the class before making herself scarce.

That night, Harry and his friends practiced the transfiguration more in the library, as Professor McGonagall had told everyone minus Harry to do so. He mostly worked on his charms homework, but he did help the others when he could, something that seemed to help quite a bit as by the end of their practice, Dean's matchstick had taken on the same appearance Hermione's had by the end of the class and Ron's was definitely pointier. Neville had the start of the silver tinge, but he couldn't seem to manage more than that, something that took Harry a little bit aback as he seemed to be doing everything perfectly.

After their practice, Harry retreated to his dorm a bit early and continued his perusal of _Charms For The Charmed_. He had found it quite interesting and had actually began writing down all of the charms he found of interest in one of the countless number of notebooks he had purchased from Flourish and Blotts in the summer. Tonight though, he finally found what he thought he was looking for.

_Silencio: _

_Silencio, or to give it its proper name as opposed to the incantation, the silencing charm is a useful charm used to mask any and all noises. It is used on concentrated points and will not work on a wide area, though the spell can be used on a door or other such barrier to prevent sound getting to the other side. Furthermore, if the spell is cast on anything either making sound or that has the ability to do so, it will strip the ability away until its counter is performed._

Beneath this passage was a diagram displaying the wand movement. Harry practiced the charm for the better part of an hour, being pleasantly surprised that by the end of which he had seemingly mastered it as it was a spell not taught to students until later years at Hogwarts, and was said to be on the O.W.L exams. Sure, it had taken him far longer than any spell so far had, but he was proud of himself nonetheless and that night, none of his unconscious cries escaped through his curtains.

* * *

**September 6th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**Great Hall.**

**7:53 AM.**

The quartet of first year Gryffindor boys entered the great hall on Friday morning, energized by the prospect of a weekend ahead. As usual, they took their customary seats at the far end of the Gryffindor table as Harry took the vial of potion from his robes and the others began preparing plates minus Neville, who always waited for Harry to finish his potion, something Harry found oddly touching.

"What have we got today?" Dean asked them as Harry poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them - we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," muttered Harry. Professor McGonagall was Head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Just then the mail arrived, something that no longer caused first years to react loudly. As a matter of fact, Harry didn't even look up. Thus far, Hedwig hadn't brought him anything, though she did sometimes fly in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped not one but two notes onto Harry's plate. Harry tore the first one open at once, drawing the attention of his three friends. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?_

_I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid._

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled _Yes, please, see you later_ on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again completely forgetting about the second note, which luckily, turned out to not need a reply.

_Most pleasant of greetings,_

_I would like it very much if you could join me in my office this evening after your fill of supper to meet with me as there are matters that I feel we must discuss. _

_If this time does not work for you, please send a return letter with an alternative suggestion. If you plan to attend there is no need to respond, I will simply expect you tonight. My office can be found on the seventh floor behind a statue of the gargoyle who very much enjoys lemon drops. _

_I hope your first week has been pleasant and I am eager to meet you at long last,_

_Yours truly,_

_Professor Dumbledore. _

Harry felt his stomach contract. He had been dreading the potential of this. Augusta had warned him that Dumbledore may inquire into his situation because, in her words, "he always liked being in control." She had simply advised him to stay calm and think for himself if a meeting like this came to pass, reminding him at the same time that he did not have to answer any questions if he did not wish to, as Dumbledore had neglected several of the duties associated with a magical guardian and therefore could lose the position if Harry ever pursued action. Despite her reassurances though, he could not help but be a little bit nervous. This was Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard alive, Harry had a feeling if he wanted something from Harry he would do his utmost best to assure he got it.

Harry felt another emotion too however, anger. He was angry at Dumbledore for neglecting him over the past ten years, let alone leaving him to suffer through the hell that had been his life on Privet Drive.

"Who's that one from?" Asked Ron curiously.

Harry pocketed the letter, shooting his best 'I'll tell you later' look to Neville who gave a subtle nod. "Just something from Neville's gran." Said Harry. "I'm living with them now so…" he let his voice trail off.

They finished their meals minutes later and stood, following the crowd of first year Gryffindors and a few Slytherins down an unfamiliar set of stairs towards their first potions lesson of the year.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Harry rolled his eyes and Ron shot them a scathing look. Neville just ignored them and Dean shook his head. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black and looked both cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels. They stared at all of them in turn with intensity written in their gaze, pausing on Harry for perhaps a second longer than appropriate.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows, Neville looked rather worried and Dean was actually scribbling down some notes. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Powdered root of what to an infusion of what?" He heard Ron mutter from beside him. Harry was stumped, he had never heard of any of these plants, he glanced towards Neville, who mercifully, the Herbology master he was, was mouthing the words "sleeping potion or something" to Harry. Harry could not help but be impressed with Neville, as even Hermione looked stumped.

"Uh — a sleeping potion, sir?"

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Are you asking me or telling me Potter?"

"Telling you, sir." Said Harry, this was a tone he was quite familiar with and knew exactly how to respond to.

Snape's face did not change. "Correct in a sense, I suppose, though lacking as much in detail as I expected." He turned to the Slytherin half of the room and pointed out a tall pretty girl with platinum blonde hair and pale blue eyes. "Ms. Greengrass, would you perhaps know the FULL answer to the question?"

Harry, who had become rather adept at reading people over the years out of necessity could have sworn he saw a flash of annoyance in the girl's eyes, but her voice was as neutral as her face when she answered. "Yes sir, they form the most powerful and complex sleeping potion in the world. It's literally called The Draught of Living Death."

"Correct," said Snape with a smirk. "five points to Slytherin." He turned back to Harry. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

This time Harry sighed with relief, literally sighed. It was, unlike the previous question, located in the first year portion of his Potions text, near the beginning actually. Hermione Granger had her hand up now, looking almost desperate as Malfoy and his cronies smirked at Harry. "The stomach of a goat, Professor." He answered simply but politely, wiping the smirks off of the Slytherins faces and causing Hermione to look almost dejected.

"What then, Potter, is a bezoar?" Asked Snape.

"It's a stone that can save you from most poisons if ingested, sir." He said. "It's also an ingredient in several antidotes."

Snape's face didn't change, though his eyes had narrowed slightly. "Correct." He said flatly, not bothering to award him points like he had for his own student. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. Harry knew this at once as well. He had asked Neville to quiz him one night on Charms and he had just turned around and asked Harry this exact trick question, finding it rather hilarious to watch his outrage and confusion. Neville actually smirked at Harry despite the situation and mimed a baffled look. Harry just rolled his eyes at him.

"There is no difference, Professor. They're both the same plant, another name for them is aconite."

The Gryffindors applauded as Snape's jaw tightened, he turned, his eyes snapping to Hermione, who had not yet sat down. "Sit down," he snapped at her. "Five points from Gryffindor for your horrendous display of manners, Ms. Granger, and another five from the house at large for its pathetic outburst." Hermione looked put out but Ron spoke up at once.

"How's that fair? You gave what's-her-name points for answering one question. Harry answered like —- three and you took points away?"

"And five more," said Snape. "for talking back to a teacher as well as another three for speaking out of turn, and let's see — two more for disrespecting your fellow classmate, Weasley, who happens to be named Daphne Greengrass for your information. But, though memory is clearly not your strong suit, you can at least rest easy tonight knowing that you have managed to count as high as three."

Most of the Slytherins roared with laughter and the Gryffindors tried to shout Snape down, but this only resulted in the loss of ten more house points.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone he could find reason to except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Seamus had somehow managed to melt Eloise Midgeon's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Seamus, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Seamus whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. "Poor bloke." Harry muttered to Neville, his partner. Their potion was solid, not the best in the class, but it was quite solid, even if Harry had needed to make sure on several occasions that Neville did not panic and add something detrimental. Dean and Ron beside them weren't doing quite as well as they were, but Harry thought their potion too was passable.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at the shy girl that had partnered with Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Neville.

"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Neville kicked him behind their cauldron. Harry didn't care and spoke anyways. "I have a question sir?" He asked in mock politeness. Snape nodded curtly and Harry continued. "Well sir, isn't it your job to assure our safety in your class, not mine? I mean, I'm pretty sure I was doing MY job by working on MY potion and you failed to do YOUR job, but I could be wrong."

The Gryffindors burst into noise. Dean, Neville and Ron were laughing hysterically, Hermione had let out a squeal and Parvati and Lavender were giggling loudly. Even one of the Slytherins, a strawberry blonde whom Harry didn't know was laughing, though she was doing so under the table so her Head of House could not see her.

"Detention, Potter — tonight at seven o'clock — my office."

Harry smirked victoriously at Snape, ready to drive home the dagger by making him look unimportant on top of everything else. "I'm sorry, Professor, I have a meeting with the headmaster tonight that I already agreed to. I think he would rather I went to see him, sir."

Snape sneered hatefully at Harry, seeming to ponder for a moment before speaking. "I doubt very much that headmaster Dumbledore would waste his time on the likes of you, Potter. I will not have any excuses — tonight in my office."

"Sir, I have the note here." He held it out and Snape waved his wand furiously, scanning the note a moment later when it flew into his hands before sending it back at Harry rather quickly with a flick of his wand.

"Very well," he said quietly. "you will meet me in my office tomorrow night, Potter. No excuses."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later after Harry and Neville had handed in a potion that caused Snape to sneer furiously again, clearly it had been better than he was hoping for, Ron and Dean were positively howling with laughter, not being able to believe Harry's quip even an hour later.

"That was brilliant!" Laughed Ron, doubled over with a stitch. "Harry, that was brilliant! He didn't even have a comeback!"

"It was pretty funny." Added Dean a moment later after recovering from his own fit of laughter. "Especially the bit about the detention. I was killing myself laughing!"

"Yeah," said Ron, recovering a bit. "when the hell did you get the letter to meet Albus bloody Dumbledore of all people?"

"This morning." Answered Harry shortly, not really wanting to talk about it as his nerves returned.

"Any idea what it's about?" Asked Dean eagerly.

"No." Lied Harry, catching Neville's impassive look out of the corner of his eye.

At ten to three that afternoon, Harry and his three friends all went down and met the cheerful half giant, Hagrid. It turned out that he was the Hogwarts gamekeeper and he had known Harry, Ron and Neville's parents well. When he told Neville he was sorry about what had happened to them, it drew odd looks from Ron and Dean, but Harry shot them his best "don't ask" look and they didn't.

Harry liked Hagrid. He was kind and genuine and he seemed to take a liking to all four of them. It wasn't until after five that they left the small hut on the edge of the woods and made their way back up to the castle for dinner.

Dinner passed far too quickly for Harry's liking and before he knew it, he was exploring the seventh floor in search of a gargoyle. It took him a surprisingly short amount of time to find it but then he paused. "Can I come in?" He asked hesitantly, the gargoyle didn't move. Harry took out Dumbledore's letter once more and read it over several times before it dawned on him, he slammed a hand to his forehead, mentally cursing himself before turning back to the statue. "Lemon drops." The gargoyle stepped aside, and Harry could have sworn the corners of its mouth twitched.

Behind the gargoyle was an elaborate staircase leading upwards in a spiral pattern. Harry stepped onto its bottom step and before he knew it, he was being carried upwards until the stairs ended at a landing before an ornate wooden door with a gryphon shaped knocker. Hesitantly Harry made his way forward and knocked several times. There was a delay of about two seconds before a voice called "Enter" and Harry pushed open the door.

The office was more elaborate than any room he had seen thus far in the castle with the exception of the Great Hall. Complex looking silver instruments were strewn on spindle legged tables all across the room, Harry didn't have the foggiest idea what any of them might do. There was also a perch with a brilliantly colored bird sitting atop it, but it was unlike any he had seen before. The birds feathers were crimson and its tail seemed to be gold. The bird gave a soft crow and the sound reverberated through Harry like nothing else had ever done before.

"He seems as fond of you as you are of him." Said the calm, quiet voice from behind him. Harry turned and at last looked at the man himself. Dumbledore was seated behind an immaculate oak desk wearing lurid orange robes. Behind him, a large window opened onto the setting sky outside. There was a chair on Harry's side of the desk, he looked at it for a moment and Dumbledore gestured for him to sit, seemingly noticing his gaze. Harry wanted to ask Dumbledore about the bird but knew he shouldn't for so many reasons.

"I take it you have never seen a creature like Fawkes before?" Asked Dumbledore as if he had read Harry's mind. Harry shook his head, assuming he was referring to the bird on the perch. "I thought not. Fawkes is a phoenix, he has recently had his burning day so he is still quite unimpressive in comparison to what he will be in a few short days, but he is a phoenix nonetheless."

This proclamation by Dumbledore prompted as many questions as answers, but Harry just nodded, choosing to keep quiet.

"I suppose introductions are in order." Said Dumbledore cheerfully, smiling warmly at Harry. "In case you are still unaware, my name is Albus Dumbledore. Of course, you will at least be aware by now that I am the headmaster of Hogwarts."

"I've read about you." Answered Harry, choosing to leave out some of the other things about Dumbledore that he knew.

"Ah," said Dumbledore, his deep blue eyes seeming to twinkle behind his half-moon spectacles. "you have done your research before coming to Hogwarts then?" Harry nodded. "Excellent, excellent! You do not seem to waste time, making sure you were prepared for Hogwarts and having such a busy week straight away." Harry was a bit confused as to the meaning of Dumbledore's last statement but the man just continued to smile at him. "I am speaking Harry, of your detention with Professor Snape tomorrow night."

He didn't sound accusatory, he didn't even sound concerned, if anything, Harry thought he sounded rather amused. "Uh — right, sorry about that, sir."

Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. "Think nothing of it, dear boy. After all, what is youth without the adrenaline filled thrill of rebellion?" Harry didn't have an answer but Dumbledore didn't seem to need one. "Aside from your Potions class today, how have you been enjoying Hogwarts so far, Harry?" He asked, sounding a bit concerned. "I imagine it has been quite the transition?"

"It's been brilliant, sir." Harry answered honestly, as much as he loved Longbottom Manor, Harry thought he may very well love the ancient castle of Hogwarts even more. "The castle is incredible and the classes have all been really interesting so far."

"I am glad you are enjoying them." Said Dumbledore genuinely, the twinkle in his eyes seeming to turn up another notch. "Professor McGonagall tells me you seem to have a knack for transfiguration?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess so, sir. It's not something I've really thought about. I enjoy the subject though."

Dumbledore chuckled. "If you can forgive me for saying, Harry, you sounded an awful lot like your mother just now." Harry felt a familiar twang go through him at the mention of one of his parents. Dumbledore must have noticed it because his eyes sharpened a bit. "I mean no offence, my dear boy. Your mother was one of the most brilliant minds I have ever had the pleasure of overseeing, and if there was anything about Lily Potter that surpassed her mind, it was her heart."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a moment before he spoke. "Which, I suppose, brings me to what we both know is the reason why you are here." He gazed at Harry for a moment but he didn't budge, don't give him anything you don't have to was the message that Harry was replaying over and over again inside of his mind.

"I think that we both know that I am aware that you left the care of your aunt and uncle." Said Dumbledore, his voice very quiet now. "I must confess that when we first realized you had gone missing, I found myself deeply concerned, Harry, very deeply concerned. Luckily," he continued. "you arrived at Hogwarts safe and sound, which I suppose is as much as I could have asked for." He surveyed Harry again, almost as if he was waiting for him to speak but he didn't. "I assume," pressed Dumbledore, his voice still soft and quiet. "that judging by your condition and morale upon your arrival here earlier this week that you left the care of your relatives by choice?"

He knew full well that Dumbledore knew the answer and saw no point in lying so he nodded, curious to see if Dumbledore picked up on the half truth.

It didn't seem like he did as he just sighed. "I assume as well, based on your surprisingly high knowledge of things I admit I expected you to be ignorant of, in combination with the miraculous correction of your eye sight, that you have been staying at the home of a magical family?"

"Pardon my rudeness, Headmaster," said Harry, his etiquette lessons kicking in. "but that is a rather personal question."

"It is," conceded Dumbledore with a slight bow of his head. "but I think you will find, Harry, with all do respect to you as well, that I am well within my boundaries to ask it."

Harry repeated Dumbledore's action from a moment earlier, bowing his head in acknowledgement. "Maybe," he said carefully. "but I think I'm also well within my boundaries to not answer it."

Dumbledore sighed again. "Harry, we both know that I already know the answer, why push back on such a trivial matter?"

"Because it sets the precedent." He answered, knowing full well that both he and Dumbledore knew that. If Harry gave Dumbledore the impression he would be open, he would continue to push for answers.

Dumbledore frowned. "It does indeed," he said, slowly opening the drawer of his desk and methodically withdrawing a stack of neatly sorted papers. "I think however, Harry, you may find that such precedents have no place here." He spoke politely, but Harry didn't need him to shift the tone of his voice to understand his message. Dumbledore shuffled the papers in silence for a moment before he set them down on the table between the two of them. "I do not wish to be petty," said Dumbledore. "I find such things far beneath the both of us, but I will if I must." He gently moved the papers in front of Harry. "In front of you, Harry, is the official documentation provided by both the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot on November 11th 1981 that grants me the privilege of taking on the role of your magical guardian." He looked at Harry again for a moment. "Do you know what that means, Harry?"

"It means that you'll probably try and use it to get me to tell you what you want." He answered, causing Dumbledore to raise his eyebrows, evidently surprised.

"A rather crude way of putting it." said Dumbledore, sounding as though he had swallowed something sour. "I suppose, however, that in terms of principle your statement is not entirely incorrect." He laced his fingers and leaned forward, peering more closely at Harry now. "As your magical guardian, Harry, it is my responsibility to ensure that you are as safe as you can possibly be within the magical world. I take this responsibility very seriously, as I knew both of your parents as well as-"

"Don't!" Snapped Harry, his voice rising a bit in volume, his tone full of warning.

Dumbledore paused, his eyebrows raising up once again.

"Don't what?" He asked, sounding taken aback.

"Bring my parents into this if what you're saying isn't true."

"Harry, I assure you-"

"No!" He said, cutting across the headmaster. "I'm sorry, sir, but you either didn't know my parents as well as you think you did, or my safety doesn't mean as much to you as you claim it does."

"Meaning?" Asked Dumbledore, sounding intrigued.

"My aunt and uncle didn't get along with my mum or my dad. They would have never wanted me to go there. My relatives might not have told me much, but they told me enough for me to realize that."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and sat in silence for several moments before he spoke, his eyes still closed. "Very well, straight to the point then. Harry, ten years ago I made an impulsive and important decision based on what was going on in our world." He opened his eyes again and the twinkle was gone, he was looking at Harry now with more intensity than he had done so thus far. "I do not know to what extent you have been educated on Lord Voldemort and the war he waged on magical Britain, but to put it simply, it was catastrophic. That night in Godric's Hollow, when Lord Voldemort's curse failed to kill you, was monumental. It meant the changing of the tide, but Harry, the war was not over. Some of Voldemort's most powerful followers were still at large, many of whom were nearly as ruthless as the man himself. I knew they would come for you, I knew they would seek you out at their earliest convenience. By placing you with your aunt and uncle, by placing you far away from the clutches of what remained of Voldemort's forces, I was providing you with what I believed to be the safest route to a safe and happy childhood."

"You were wrong." Said Harry. His voice was not loud, but it was defiant. "If you would have put me with a wizarding family with strong wards, I'd still have been fine."

Dumbledore looked a bit surprised at his knowledge but only for a moment. "In the short term, perhaps." He conceded. "The problem, Harry, lies in the fact that I knew all too well, as did many others that numerous members of Lord Voldemort's inner circle were going to evade prosecution, and low and behold, those of us of that belief turned out to be very much correct. If I had placed you with a wizarding family once I gained control over your affairs, I would have been setting you up to be the center of a potential scheme down the line." Dumbledore shook his head. "It may sound far fetched to you, Harry, it may even sound impossible, but alas, naivety is the gift of youth where as foresight is the gift of age. It would have happened, of that I am almost certain."

"Even if that's true though," said Harry quietly. "you still failed."

"Pardon my ignorance, Harry," said Dumbledore politely. "but given your current state in relation to my objectives, I fail to see how my plan has fallen short."

"Because, Headmaster," said Harry, his voice a bit cool despite his efforts to keep it neutral. "what your foresight failed to notice were the threats inside of my so called sanctuary."

"Harry, I fail to see-"

"There's a reason why I left, Headmaster." Said Harry, again cutting across Dumbledore. "Do you know what they told me about my parents?" Dumbledore shook his head, though he suddenly looked a bit pale. "They told me that they had got themselves killed in a car crash with me in the back seat because my father was a drug addict and a raging alcoholic." He looked challengingly back at Dumbledore. "Do you know what those are in the muggle world, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Harry, I-"

"My mother," he continued over Dumbledore's words. "again, according to my dear old relatives, sold her body for money so that my father could afford his drugs and alcohol."

Dumbledore took a long, deep breath, seemingly gathering his thoughts as well as waiting to see if Harry was finished. When Harry didn't speak again, Dumbledore's voice filled the silence once more. "Harry, ten years ago I made a spontaneous judgement call that I believed to be for the best. Please listen to me, please allow me to finish, but in many ways, I still believe it was and is for the best. I admit," he added, raising a hand to hold off any further interruptions. "that my plan was not perfect. It was never my intention for you to be lied to and manipulated to believe horrible things about your parents that were not true. Forgive me for saying this, but I did know both of your parents, and better people their own age I did not know. Your father was brave, confident, selfless and noble. Your mother was loving, considerate, passionate and open-minded." Dumbledore met Harry's eyes now, and he seemed to be trying to convey his message with every fibre of his being. "You have my word Harry that I would NEVER, under any circumstances purposefully subject the son of Lily and James Potter to such lies and manipulations."

Harry wanted to scream at Dumbledore, to tell him everything else the Dursleys had ever done but he didn't. He felt that Dumbledore was being honest and he had no desire to relive those memories. "So," said Harry carefully. "where do we go from here?"

"A compromise I believe." Said Dumbledore looking a bit relieved Harry was reacting calmly thus far. "You do not wish to return to your aunt and uncles, that much I can see is clear. However, I still feel that, with heavy monitoring and modifications, it is still the safest place-"

Harry stood so abruptly that the chair he had been sitting in toppled over. Fawkes the phoenix looked at him with wide curious eyes. Harry was staring at Dumbledore now and his eyes seemed to glow, looking eerily like the very spell that had given him the scar that was oh so evident in the setting sunlight coming through the window.

"Harry?"

"We're done."

"With all do respect Harry, I feel we still have much to sort out."

"No, we're done. This conversation is over!"

"Harry please-"

"Your intent might be good, Headmaster. I don't know but I really don't care." Swiftly, Harry pulled up his robes, showcasing to a now shocked and horrified looking Albus Dumbledore the scars on his chest and ribs. "I don't care what your intent is. I don't care if you think it's best for me, any solution that ends in me going back to the Dursleys will NEVER happen. Goodnight, sir." And before Dumbledore could stop him, Harry turned on his heel, walking out of the office before Dumbledore's eyes had even began to narrow once more after going wide as saucers at what they had just seen.

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**Authors Endnote:**

**Well, I usually have a pretty easy time writing Dumbledore, but damn that last scene was hard to write. This was my third draft of the damned thing so I hope it turned out well. **

**I am trying something a little bit different for this story. Normally my first year stories end up being/projecting to be about 30 chapters long. I am aiming to have year 1 of this story done in a maximum of 20 chapters by extending the length of said chapters. This doesn't mean every chapter will be longer than 10k words by any means, but I am trying to wrap this up in less, and therefore longer chapters so I hope you all enjoy this format just as well.**

**Please read and review.**


	7. TSR Ch 7:Fights and Flights

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.

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Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story.

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Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.

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Recommendations:

Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.

Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.

Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.

The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.

Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.

The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.

A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

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**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 7: Fights and Flights. **

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**September 6th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**8:37 PM.**

Harry hardly even noticed where he was going as he stormed from Dumbledore's office. The man was a living contradiction, seeming to be genuinely remorseful one moment and then so unwilling to change course the next. Harry had always had a talent for reading people and he did not think that Dumbledore wanted anything but the best for him, so why would he want him back at the Dursleys? Whatever wards Dumbledore had erected, surely they were outmatched by those at Longbottom Manor. Augusta had boasted that they were some of the best in the country, and as for a trick, Harry didn't see Augusta letting anyone who could hurt them into the manor. To his knowledge, only direct family and a few close friends of hers even had access to the manor at all.

Before Harry knew it he was in an unfamiliar corridor. He needed to decide what to do. He could return to Gryffindor tower, but that would mean the others would see his state and ask questions, questions that he had no interest in answering. He paced back and forth in front of the blank wall, thinking that maybe he would go down to the library. On his third time past the wall however, he froze, eyes wide as he stared at the door that had just appeared on the wall seemingly from out of nowhere.

Harry tentatively reached out and took the handle, needing to confirm for himself that the door was indeed real. Hesitantly he turned it, his tumult of emotions giving way to burning curiosity that would not be so easily snuffed out. When Harry stepped inside the room his eyes went wide. It wasn't a library like the one several floors below, at least not in size, but it was still an impressive collection all the same and Harry quickly noticed that every book caught his eye, as if the room had only selected those that it thought he would be most interested in. The shelves were lined with spellbooks, books on transfiguration, books on curses, duelling and quite a few dedicated to magical theory, something Harry found himself perhaps the most interested in. It was something that fascinated him greatly after growing up away from magic, and on top of that, he knew understanding it would help him greatly on his path to becoming a great and powerful wizard, something he would need to accomplish if he wished to finish Voldemort for good.

He picked one on transfiguration theory off of the wall. He had never read a book on the theory of one particular area of magic before. Harry wished there was somewhere comfortable to sit. Almost at once the room around him changed. It expanded, forming a separate room altogether from the library; this new room contained a large table of what looked like quartz, surrounded by several comfortable looking armchairs. There was also a sofa pushed off into the corner. Harry blinked,

'What is this place?'

He quickly reviewed his memory, trying to remember both how to get here and how the room had appeared. The only thing he could remember was pacing up and down in front of the wall and thinking about maybe wanting to go to the library. Was it that simple then? Was the room meant to bend to the will of witches and wizards?

Harry sighed, deciding to bury himself deep within the book, taking from his school bag one of his many notebooks; one of the ones dedicated specifically to transfiguration. Harry read for several hours, blown away by what he read. The book put everything in simple terms, and by the end of the night, Harry was completing transformations the class would not be attempting until their return from the Christmas Holidays.

He smiled at his success, drawing his wand from his pocket and casting the Tempus spell, swiftly wincing at the results. It was midnight; Merlin only knew what Neville was thinking. He stood, stuffing the book on transfiguration into his school bag with his notebook and making his way towards the exit. When he stepped outside of the room he turned, having to try something before he left. He closed his eyes, conjuring up an image of the Gryffindor common room in his mind. On his third time passed the door he spun, his face breaking into a gleeful smile when he saw that the door was there once more. He opened it and his smile grew even larger if such a thing was possible at all. It was exactly what he had imagined, a perfect replica of the Gryffindor common room, even the window showed off the same view, something he thought was a rather impressive bit of magic, even if he had no idea how it worked.

Harry's glee did not last long though, as he quickly remembered the time. Not only did he have to get back to the common room in a hurry, but it was two hours past curfew. He didn't even want to imagine what would happen to him if he were caught by Filch, or, maybe even worse still, Snape.

Luckily for Harry he met no one on his short trek back to the tower. He gave the password to the fat lady in a hurry, she was none too pleased to be woken from her slumber at such an hour, but she swung obligingly open nonetheless.

When Harry first stepped into the common room he glanced around, he thought that the room was empty, that was until a figure stood from an armchair, a figure whom Harry quickly recognized.

"Neville." he greeted a bit tiredly. The other boy just sighed.

"You've been gone for hours after going into a meeting with the most powerful wizard in the world, who we thought may try something, and the first thing you do is greet me like nothing happened?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm fine. The meeting with Dumbledore didn't even take that long."

Neville frowned. "Then where have you been for the last five hours?"

Harry smiled, unable to contain his energy. "I'll show you some time tomorrow. I'll probably show Ron and Dean too, but not yet. It's incredible, I never knew a place like it even existed."

Neville smiled, seeming exasperated. "Yeah, thanks, that was very enlightening."

Harry laughed softly. "Sorry, I needed to blow off some steam after my meeting with Dumbledore."

Neville furrowed his brow. "Was it that bad?"

Harry shrugged again. "Not really, I guess," he answered. "it just had a rough ending." Neville stared expectantly at Harry who sighed. "Long story short, he realizes he was wrong for not checking in on me at the Dursleys and I actually think he feels pretty bad about it."

"But?" Prompted Neville, a look of impending doom upon his face.

"But, he still wants me to go back to them. He said he'll put precautions into place."

Neville scowled. "And what did you tell him?"

"I walked out."

"You didn't!"

"I did."

"You walked out on Albus Dumbledore?" Neville sounded astonished and looked at Harry as if he were some kind of god.

Harry chuckled. "You seem surprised."

"Harry," said Neville, now clearly exasperated. "you make it sound like it's no big deal. Do you have any idea how few people would have the stones to just get up and walk out on a Centennial Sorcerer?"

It was Harry's turn to frown now, he had never heard that term, but figured he had a pretty good idea what it meant. "I don't see what his age has to do with anything. I mean — I couldn't care less if he's a hundred-"

"Harry," sighed Neville, looking almost amused now as well as exasperated. "calling someone a Centennial Sorcerer doesn't mean that they're one hundred years old."

Now Harry was confused. "Well, what does it mean then?"

"It means that they were the defining sorcerer of a century. Or, in rare cases, one of multiple defining sorcerers, either because of their discoveries, contributions, power, or something else."

Harry nodded slowly. Yes, this made a lot more sense with Neville's earlier comment. "Well, I don't care what he's done; I'm never going back there, plain and simple."

"No, you're not." Said Neville, and though his voice was quiet, it carried a clear sense of resolve and defiance that Harry had never heard before.

They stood in silence for a few long moments. Neither needed to say anything, that one statement had said it all. "We should get to bed," said Harry, quickly changing the subject. "it's late. If I'm gone when you wake up tomorrow I'm-"

"In the library." Said Neville with a smile. "Or this new special place of yours, I guess. Yeah, you gave me a scare the first day you just weren't there when I woke up, but I'm starting to figure out your schedule."

Harry smiled as they made their way back up to the dormitory, ready to wake up tomorrow and enjoy his first full day of free time, or, more precisely, his first full day he could spend drinking in the magical world to its fullest, hardly even caring about his impending detention with Snape.

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**September 7th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**Gryffindor Tower.**

5:38 AM.

Harry did indeed awake before any of his fellow Gryffindor first year boys. He dressed and showered quickly. When he returned to the common room to grab his bag, he thought Dean may have been stirring weakly, but no one was truly awake. He made his way out of the common room quickly and made his way to the tapestry from the night before, it depicted a slightly barmy looking wizard standing with several trolls wearing what looked to be tiaras. Harry smirked.

'At least I'll always remember what to look for.'

Holding his breath, he paced up and down in front of the opposite wall, envisioning with all he was worth the exact room he had studied in last night, half library, half study. When he opened his eyes he beamed, the door had appeared as before and when he pushed it open he smiled even wider, the room was exactly the same. He tapped his wand against his wrist, casted the tempus spell, it was a little past six, he figured he had about two hours before the others would be at breakfast so he began to peruse the shelves.

Many of the books were very obviously too advanced for him, speaking of things he knew were far beyond him, but some seemed more his speed. He took out a book titled _The Basics of Victory: Fifty Must Know Spells To Win A Duel, _and sat down, pulling another one of his notebooks towards him as he did so.

By the time breakfast had come around, Harry was fairly confident he had mastered both the leg locker jinx and the full body bind curse, though he wouldn't know for sure until he practiced on another person. He also mastered the knockback jinx, Flippendo, something he could easily judge by how fast and far he was sending the chairs across the room. He had also taken note of fifteen or so others, some were clearly out of his reach at the moment but some, like the disarming charm and even the stunning spell, seemed attainable with some practice.

He made it to breakfast at about a quarter after eight, plopping down beside Ron and across from Neville. "Let me guess," said Ron with a roll of his eyes. "you've been in the library?"

"Lucky guess." Said Harry with a smirk, causing Ron to roll his eyes again. It wasn't a complete lie after all.

"I swear, you're worse than Granger."

"Can't have her beating me now, can I?"

Ron just shook his head. "Suit yourself." he said, shoving a fork full of egg into his mouth.

"Any plans for today?" Asked Dean, who seemed probably the most awake out of Harry's three friends. 'Study.' Harry thought, but he didn't say that.

"Not really," he said, rubbing his jaw in thought. "explore the castle maybe? I've read that there are tons of secret passages and such."

"That sounds fun." Said Dean with a smile, Neville nodded and Ron swallowed loudly.

"I'm game." He proclaimed, causing Harry to crack up.

After drinking his potion and eating his fill, Harry and the others left the hall and set out to explore some of the wonders of Hogwarts. They found a few secret passages behind some paintings; one of them would serve as quite a useful shortcut to Transfiguration. They also found a few rooms that Harry hadn't known existed at all, one of them being the trophy room.

"Oi!" Exclaimed Ron after a few minutes of looking around. "this one has my brother's name on it!"

"Bill?" Asked Harry, remembering that the older Weasley had been Head Boy in his time.

"No," said Ron, sounding dismissive. "Charlie. It's an award for Quidditch MVP that season; blimey, he won most outstanding seeker the same year."

"He played seeker?" Asked Harry, stepping up beside Ron to examine the trophy and medal.

"Yeah," said Ron. "I think he started off as a chaser but he realized he was a really good seeker. I wasn't really old enough to judge how good he was, I mean — it seemed to me like he was Joseph Parker at the time-"

"Who's Joseph Parker?" Asked Dean, making his way over to them as well.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, no one important, just the best Quidditch player alive right now and the best seeker the Premier league has ever seen."

Dean put up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Hey, muggleborn, remember?"

Ron sighed. "We'll get you cultured one day." Then, his eyes seemed to catch something. "Harry, isn't that your dad's name?"

Harry's attention snapped off of Charlie's awards at once. Ron was holding up the same trophy that Charlie had won for being the most valuable player during the year, though the one Ron held listed a year some twelve or thirteen years previous and the name listed upon it wasn't Charlie Weasley, but James Potter.

"Blimey..." said Harry, taking the trophy from Ron's hands as if it was a priceless piece of art. "I knew he played Quidditch, but I never realized he was that good."

"You're going to be good too then." Said Ron happily. "Maybe we can both try out for the Gryffindor team next year if there are some openings."

"He's amazing." Said Neville, not looking up from the row of trophies he was examining. "Terrifying, but amazing."

Ron nodded. "What do you play?"

"Uh — I've never actually played in a match, but I think I'd make a good seeker."

"You've got the build for one." Noted Ron, looking at him appraisingly. Harry nodded, but a second later his attention was caught once more by the sharp and matter of fact way in which Neville spoke.

"Harry come here, you'll want to see this."

Harry made his way over to him and immediately saw why. He was holding up a trophy larger than any Harry had seen thus far, the trophy read _Highest Academic Achiever For The Graduating Class of 1977-1978. _Below that was a single name written in an elegant, golden font.

_Lily Evans._

Harry's heart gave yet another jolt as he looked down at this. He knew that his mother had been talented, Augusta had told him as much, though she had openly admitted to what extent she was unaware. It turned out that his mother had possibly been a prodigy and at the very least, she had been the most talented student of her year, something that was not an easy achievement, especially for a muggleborn, who certainly entered the world at a disadvantage. This, more than anything else since his realization that Voldemort was alive, served to redouble his resolve, he would succeed. As a matter of fact, he would do even more than that — he would be great. What had Neville called Dumbledore? A Centennial Sorcerer? In that moment Harry knew what his goal was, the twenty first century was fast approaching, and it, like those before it, needed a sorcerer to define it.

The rest of the day passed as one of the best of Harry's life, the first day he had truly enjoyed to its entirety with more than one friend. It was an odd feeling, though he drank it in with pleasure, there had been nothing in his life so far quite like it. They spent most of the day exploring the castle, but in the late afternoon they had gone out to the lake and just lounged underneath a massive oak tree. Harry read _Potions Theory Made Easy,_ a book he had yet to open while simultaneously taking notes and keeping up with the conversation going on around him.

"Out of everything you could read right now, you pick Potions?" Ron had asked him. "And it's not even our course book?"

Harry shrugged. "If Snape is going to try and ask me impossible questions every class, I may as well be ready." Ron did not have a retort to that.

After dinner, Ron and Dean went back to the common room to play wizard chess, which was apparently the exact same thing as muggle chess except for the fact that the pieces were alive. Harry took this opportunity to slip off with Neville and show him the room before he had to go to his detention. Neville found the room incredible and was only mildly put out when it couldn't conjure up a greenhouse full of plants, though it had no issue with the greenhouse bit.

"I doubt it can produce living things." Said Harry. "They're a lot harder to conjure, plants are especially complicated."

"I never really understood that." Admitted Neville.

"I think you have to understand what it is you're creating." Said Harry as the room morphed into a meeting room, it was the same as his other room, just missing the half that was a library. "It's hard for us to conjure something living because it's so complicated. Our magic has to make up for what our mind doesn't know."

"How do you know all of that after only being in the magical world for like — two months?"

Harry smiled. "I like Transfiguration. I've spent a lot of my time on it but I don't actually know, I'm guessing."

Neville just sighed and rolled his eyes.

The day had been such a good one that not even Snape's detention, which consisted of Harry sorting some rather vile potions ingredients without gloves could do anything to dampen it.

Harry spent most of the next day reading and note taking while Ron, Dean and Neville were finishing homework that Harry himself had already completed. He did manage to master the disarming charm that day though, something made evident when he made the quill Ron was holding shoot out of his hands. "Oi!" Ron had exclaimed as the quill flew towards Harry, who caught it with cat like reflexes. Neville and Dean were laughing hysterically, even Ron smiled.

The next few days passed rather normally. Harry was excelling in classes, rivaled only by Hermione Granger, though he outperformed her pretty easily on Wednesday in Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall had them back at the matchsticks, when Harry transfigured his first five in a row all on his first attempt and all with minimal effort, Professor McGonagall began giving him challenges, patterns and details to add to his needles. By the time the class had ended, Harry left behind a heaping pile of ornate needles, every single one of them adorned with a different pattern. Hermione had been the only other person to fully complete the Transfiguration, though several needles sitting in front of her were oddly misshapen, with the exception of one that looked admittedly quite pristine, though ordinary. Dean had come quite close, and he vowed that he would do it that night with some practice, asking Harry to help him, which he did, smiling widely when Dean produced several needles of his own, he didn't even bother to point out how misshapen each of them were.

Harry spent much of that week studying and practicing. He had learned both the locking and unlocking charms, as well as the light spell, Lumos, and he could also conjure blue bell flames without much issue, something that awed his friends and had Hermione Granger looking at him wistfully from the other side of the common room.

The only downside to the week was that Neville, who had not been performing overly well in any class, was looking rather discouraged. Harry didn't get it either, the boy seemed to be doing everything right, but it was as if his magic was not responding to him, something Harry found odd to say the very least.

* * *

**September 12th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Great Hall.**

**7:46 AM.**

When Thursday morning came, it was with a high level of excitement that Harry and most of his friends took their customary seats at the Gryffindor table. Today would be their first flying lesson, and Harry could not wait to get into the air again, even if the school brooms would inevitably be a fierce downgrade from his top of the line Nimbus 2000. Ron and Dean too were excited, but Neville looked rather pale.

"Do you think Malfoy's really out flown a hellochopper?" Asked Ron, causing Harry and Dean both to laugh. Ron looked confused. "What?" He asked, sounding mildly indignant.

"It's called a helicopter." Said Harry, still chuckling. "And no, I highly doubt it. I'm pretty sure they're faster than brooms and it would have caused a fairly major breach in the Statute of Secrecy, wouldn't it?"

"Probably." Admitted Ron. "The muggles could've been obliviated though?"

"Only if Malfoy knew who they were." Harry countered. "It's almost as if you hoped he had."

"No," said Ron, looking a bit anxious for the first time. "of course not, I was just wondering." Harry felt anxiety rolling off of him in waves, something that oddly Neville nor Dean didn't seem to pick up on. Harry could interpret it just fine, Ron was nervous of being outflown by Malfoy.

Their conversation was broken up a minute later though when Neville's family barn owl landed in front of him, holding out its leg looking almost bored. Attached to it was a package bearing the Longbottom coat of arms. "Must be from gran." Said Neville, sounding almost nervous as he hesitantly took the package off of Hermes's leg and began to open it, the owl flew away at once; clearly it had not been instructed to wait around for a reply.

"Hey!" Exclaimed Neville, smiling broadly as he held up a glass ball that Harry had seen him carrying around from time to time in the manor. "She sent me my remembrall."

"What's a remembrall?" Asked Dean, sounding confused.

"It shows me if I've forgotten anything." Said Neville. "It lights up red if I have, my memory is horrible you know-"

He was cut off a moment later when the remembrall was snatched from out of his hands. Neville spun, looking affronted, but he blanched rather quickly when he saw the slim, tall form of Draco Malfoy smirking at him as he leisurely examined the artifact, tossing it up and down as Crabbe and Goyle leered on either side of him.

"A remembrall?" Asked Malfoy, sounding disgusted. "The first thing your grandmother sends you all year Longbottom, and it's a remembrall? Good god, how far have the Longbottoms fallen in the last eleven years? I mean, what kind of wizard needs a remembrall? I doubt even Weasely would have much use for one of these, unless it was remembering the difference between a sickle and a galleon, but when you've seen so few of them in your lifetime, that's a little bit more acceptable, isn't it?"

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly beside Malfoy, but they faltered a moment later when Harry stood to his feet, drawing his wand from his pocket and jabbing it towards Malfoy. "Expelliarmus." The remembrall shot out of Malfoy's hands and straight at Harry, who caught it easily and pocketed it. "Nice seeing you, Draco. You can go now."

Malfoy sneered at him. "What's the matter, Longbottom? Do you need Potter to fight all of your battles for you?"

"That's rich coming from the guy with trolls on either side of him." Bit back Ron, who was also standing now, going for his wand.

"What is going on here?" Asked a high pitched voice from nearby. They all turned to see Professor Flitwick, who had evidently paused on his way past them.

"Malfoy tried to steal Neville's remembrall!" Said Ron at once, beating Malfoy to the punch, his mouth half open.

"Did he? Where is it now?"

Harry took it out of his pocket. "I took it back from him, sir." He said neutrally.

Flitwick raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I hope you boys haven't been fighting."

"Not at all professor, I just used the disarming spell. You know, Expelliarmus."

"When did you learn that charm, Mr. Potter?" He looked impressed and Harry was a bit taken aback. He glanced at Malfoy, who was standing there awkwardly and had to try hard not to snicker.

"A few days ago, sir."

"Good gracious! That is excellent, Mr. Potter! That charm isn't taught until second year in Defense Against The Dark Arts, if I am not mistaken. Very good indeed! Take five points to Gryffindor." He looked at Malfoy. "Two points will be taken from Slytherin for your conduct, Mr. Malfoy. Please return to your house table or leave the hall altogether."

Malfoy glared one last time at the four of them before he made his exit, Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles as they left. Harry just rolled his eyes. "Never seen such fake tough guys in my life."

By the time they all made their way down the sloping lawns to a smooth patch of grass near the forbidden forest that had evidently been laid out for this particular practice, Harry was making sure to stay a fair few paces away from Neville; as much as he liked the other boy, he had no desire at all to be covered in his vomit.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

The instructor was an older, very strict looking woman by the name of Madam Hooch. She was thin with short grey hair and beady yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

'Definitely not a Nimbus 2000.'

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front. "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all.

'Maybe they're like horses, won't let you ride if they think you're afraid.' The fear in Neville had been made rather evident from the slight quiver in his voice.

It took several minutes for everyone to get a hold on their brooms, and even then, Harry was certain even that had only been achieved through a fair bit of cheating. When they all finally had done so however, Madam Hooch made her way around the group, correcting grips as she went. Harry found himself rather proud when she smiled at him and Ron approvingly, and his smile only grew when she loudly informed Draco Malfoy that his grip was wrong, and when he told her that he had been doing it that way for as long as he could remember, she promptly shut him down by proclaiming the only thing that meant was that he had been doing it wrong his entire life.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard." said Madam Hooch.

Harry saw Neville becoming rather twitchy, sensing an impending disaster, he leaned towards him. "Calm down Neville, it's going to be fine. Just stay calm, don't do anything out of order. Just breathe, relax, and follow the instructions."

Neville breathed out deeply and nodded, smiling gratefully at Harry.

"Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two-"

Harry had been right when he had predicted a disaster, though luckily, perhaps only due to his intervention it wasn't Neville. Instead, Hermione Granger, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back down here at once!" she shouted, but Hermione was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw her scared white face looked down at the ground falling away, saw her gasp, and saw her slip sideways off the broom.

He reacted faster than he'd have thought possible. He would later thank his lucky stars that he had already memorized the first year edition of _The Standard Book of Spells, _and had already began skimming the beginning of the second, for that was where he had learned the spell he shouted a moment later, his wand snapping into his hand in an instant.

"Arresto Momentum!"

Right before impact, Hermione's fall slowed, not enough that the fall wasn't painful, but enough that she may only have a broken bone as opposed to being paralyzed from such a fall. Still, the thud was rather horrible, and her heart stopping scream a moment later only made it all the worse.

Madam Hooch was there in an instant, bending low over her prone form. "Broken wrist." She said matter of factly, gently helping Hermione up to her feet. "None of you is to move while I take this young lady to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear." She took a few steps before pausing, glancing back over her shoulder. "And Mr. Potter, take twenty five well earned points for Gryffindor. You may very well have prevented serious, life altering injuries."

Hermione, her face tear-streaked, clutching her wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around the girl.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see her? The way she flailed in the air on her way down?" Then he glanced over at the Gryffindors, many of whom were pale or stone faced. "How low can you sink, Potter? First a squib, then a Weasley, and now not one, but two mudbloods."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Snapped Neville as he stepped forwards, drawing his own wand, Harry too stepped forward but he was too late.

"Or what, Longbottom? You're going to do something to me? Or are you just going to hope that Potter does it for you." Crabbe and Goyle stepped forward and Neville faltered, losing his balance for a second and causing the glass ball to fall from his pocket. He made to grab it but Malfoy was quicker, snatching it from out of his hands.

"Expelliarmus!" Snapped Harry, sending the jet of red light streaking towards Malfoy but the boy was ready this time and dodged to the side, quickly grabbing a broomstick and kicking off the ground.

"Too slow, Potter!" He taunted down at him, waving the remembrall above his head. "I think I'll put this somewhere nice, maybe up in a tree?"

"Give it here, Malfoy!" Snapped Harry, his anger rising.

The boy just smirked down at him. "Very confident with a wand, Potter, but not so much in the air are you? Not such a true wizard after all?"

Harry didn't even think, he just stepped over the nearest broom, sticking out his hand and calling "up!" causing the broom to obey him instantly. Ignoring the cries of warning from behind him, Harry mounted the broom and kicked off into the air in one fluid motion, causing Ron and Dean to whoop loudly from the ground while several others screamed.

It certainly felt sluggish in comparison to his Nimbus 2000, but after a week and a half without the exhilarating feeling of the wind rushing around him, it felt just as good to Harry. He streaked up towards Malfoy, who made to fake right and dodged left at the last second. Harry spun the broom in a 360 in mid air, slamming the end of it into Malfoy's ribs painfully and nearly knocking him off his broom. Draco winced and cried out before gritting his teeth, his face was now red.

"What's the matter, Malfoy?" Asked Harry, doing his best to imitate the boy's earlier tone. "Am I more of a wizard than you thought I was? Or have you finally realized I'm just better than you?" He smiled at the look of anger on the boy's face, but more so by how quickly it was replaced with something else — fear, or at the very least, doubt. "No Crabbe and Goyle to try and fail to save your skin up here."

Malfoy seemed to realize the same thing as he glanced towards the ground before looking back at Harry, hatred in his eyes. "Think you're so great, Potter? Well let's see it then. Catch!" And he threw the glass orb towards the ground with all his might.

Harry didn't even think about it, weeks of practicing kicked his instincts into gear in a second and before he knew it he was diving, shooting head first towards the ground like a javelin, his broom appearing completely vertical to those on the ground. Harry heard their screams of panic but they didn't phase him. Time seemed to slow down as his eyes focused on the glass ball, it and him seemed to be the only things in the world at that moment. He reached out at the last second, feeling his fingers close around the cool glass as time seemed to speed back up in an instant. He pulled up as hard as he could and felt his feet scrape the ground as he just barely managed to pull out of the dive, causing those on the ground to either cheer or gape at his feat. Even he was impressed, he had been rather daring on his Nimbus 2000, but he had never gone that low, and that was ignoring the fact the two brooms he had flown on could not even remotely be compared to one another. Harry caught sight of Ron's gleeful yet awestruck expression and was about to smile when something made him freeze.

"HARRY POTTER!"

His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them.

"Never - in all my time at Hogwarts-"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously. " - how dare you - might have broken your neck-"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor-"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil-"

"But Malfoy-"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Harry quickly handed Neville back his remembrall, shooting both Ron and Parvati grateful smiles before he followed in the footsteps of his head of house, doing his best to ignore the all too smug smile imprinted on Draco Malfoy's aristocratic face.

Was he going to be expelled? What would Augusta say if he was?

'She was so proud when I got my letter.'

The thought terrified him. She was the only adult in his life whom he had ever wanted to please and it seemed as if he had failed.

'Were the Dursleys right?' Am I a freak even amongst these people?'

All of these thoughts assaulted him as he followed his Transfiguration professor back up the sloping lawn, up the front steps and back into the ancient castle. He found he was almost jogging to keep up. She was quite tall and it seemed like he had to take two steps for every one of her strides, on top of that, she seemed in quite a hurry.

He expected her to lead him towards her office but she didn't, taking him by surprise when she led him on a route that he was fairly sure led to the Charms corridor. They stopped outside a door and she knocked hard several times. A moment later the door opened, and Professor Flitwick looked up at her curiously.

"I'm dearly sorry, Filius, but could I borrow Wood, please? He may not return to the class today."

"Certainly." Squeaked Flitwick at once. "Off you go, Mr. Wood, off you go." Harry's confusion only grew when a tall, burly upper year student who Harry recognized as a fellow Gryffindor stepped out of the classroom. Professor McGonagall gestured for them both to follow her and they did. Wood shot Harry a questioning look but he only shrugged, just as baffled as he suspected his companion must be. This time she really did lead them into her office. As soon as the door shut she let out a breath and turned to Wood, and to Harry's utter amazement, the woman wore an ear to ear grin.

"Mr. Wood, I believe I have found you a seeker."

The boy's eyes widened and he stared at Harry more critically, instantly beginning to circle him like a dog who had found raw meat. "A seeker, Professor?" He asked a moment later when he had stopped walking. "He has the build for it but, the first year rule-"

"I just watched him dive at least fifty feet completely vertically after a dropped remembrall on the school brooms and pull up with less than five feet between him and the ground, glass ball in hand."

Wood's mouth fell open in shock. "D-d-do you think you can get him an exception to the rule? He'll need his own broom too, Professor."

"I believe so." She said, nodding. "I will speak to Professor Dumbledore at dinner tonight." She turned towards Harry, her face becoming only a bit more strict. "What you did was foolish, Mr. Potter. I do not encourage such reckless behaviour, but seeing as it was in defense of another student," she smiled again. "and seeing as it may very well have just won Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup, I will not be punishing you." She looked towards Wood. "This is Oliver Wood, he is a fifth year and Gryffindor Quidditch captain. Mr. Wood, take him out to the pitch now if you have time, I believe you will want to see the boy's talent for yourself."

* * *

Harry did not see his friends again until dinner that night. Wood had worked him hard, and Harry had a very strong suspicion that the fifth year boy was fanatical, if not obsessive about training. When Harry entered the hall, he could practically feel all of the first year Gryffindor and Slytherin students focus on him instantly. He sighed, rolling his eyes as he took a seat at the Gryffindor table.

"Well," he said, realizing how tense the silence would be if he didn't fill it. "that went well."

"So you're not in too much trouble then?" Asked Dean, sounding a bit relieved.

Harry smiled and turned to Neville. "Nope, thanks by the way." He told Neville, causing him to look confused.

"For what?" He asked, sounding downcast. "I almost got you killed because I dropped a stupid ball."

"Nonsense," said Harry, doing his best to shoot Neville what he hoped was a winning smile. "I was never going to crash. Besides," he added, a far more natural smile now slipping into place. "if it wasn't for you dropping that thing, I would have never become the youngest seeker in a century."

"WHAT!?" Ron, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Parvati and Lavender all exploded at once, all of whom must have been listening to him speak.

He started laughing, but faltered a moment later when a drawling voice spoke from nearby.

"Enjoying your last bit of socializing while you can, Potter?" Asked Malfoy, wearing the same smug smile he had when Harry left the flying class earlier in the day. "Or are you just still in shock? It must be a record, I don't think anyone has managed to get themselves kicked out of Hogwarts before the end of the second week. I'll have to write father and have that confirmed."

"Expelled? Malfoy, I think you're talking about the wrong record."

Malfoy scowled. "Did she whip you that hard, Potter? What are you talking about?"

"He's talking about the record he ACTUALLY broke." Said Ron with a rather victorious looking smile, looking like the cat who had caught the canary. "You should be more respectful, Malfoy. You're not just talking to any first year, you're talking to the youngest seeker in a century!"

In that moment, Malfoy reminded Harry very much of Uncle Vernon, for he had never seen anyone else whose face could cycle through various expressions so fast. His face went from shock, to disbelief, to realization, to rage all in a second, finally resting on a hateful sneer as his face took on an all too familiar purple colour.

"Well, well, well," drawled Malfoy, every syllable positively dripping with venom. "it seems that Dumbledore already has his golden boy's back then; pathetic!" He turned to Neville. "I bet you're proud of yourself, Longbottom. You probably feel accomplished for dropping that stupid ball now, don't you? I'll bet you think it pays to hide behind Potter now."

"Go away, Malfoy!" Gritted out Neville, his cheeks turning pink.

"Oh, wait a minute, Longbottom, let me just take a breather while you let Potter fight your battles for you."

Neville's face was turning red. "I don't need Harry to fight my battles for me!"

"Really? Your behaviour begs to differ, Longbottom. Can't even keep a hold on a stupid remembrall? Your parents would be SO proud."

Neville made to lunge at Malfoy but Harry grabbed him, just managing to hold him back. Neville was fuming as he tried to break Harry's grip. "Oh yeah? You think you're so much better than me, Malfoy? I challenge you to a wizard's duel!"

Malfoy looked shocked for a moment before he laughed. "Alright Longbottom, you're on. Who's your second? You're going to need one. Oh — silly me, it's Potter, isn't it?"

"No!" Snapped Neville, catching Harry off guard. "It's…" he looked between Dean and Ron, "Dean."

Malfoy laughed again. "A squib and a mudblood? This should be easy, alright, mine is Crabbe. Seeing as you issued the challenge, I believe I get to select the time and place. Let's see — the trophy room, midnight?"

Harry's eyes snapped to Malfoy's, he was full of suspicion. A moment later, something odd happened as he looked into Malfoy's eyes, he heard whispers in his own head, whispers that sounded much more like the other boy's voice than his own.

'No show — trap — Filch.'

"That's after curfew, Malfoy." Harry cut in quickly, realizing through whatever had just happened what the other boy was planning. "It has to be within curfew. You're not even worth Neville's time, let alone a detention!"

Malfoy sneered at him for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. "Fine, fine, let's stick with the trophy room for let's see — eight O'clock?" He looked at Harry. "Does your guardian angel have any objections, Longbottom?"

"No!" Snapped Neville, causing Malfoy to smirk again.

"Good, see you soon, Longbottom." And he left the table, leaving Harry and Neville to glare at one another.

"You don't think I can beat Malfoy!" Snapped Neville immediately, causing Harry to blanch.

"No, he was trying to trap you. Get you to go to the trophy room and then not show up and tell Filch. He might do the same thing now, I'm not sure."

Neville didn't look placated. "So what? You want me not to go?"

"I never said that." Harry protested, though he very much didn't want Neville to go. He wasn't sure what was wrong with Neville's magic at the moment, but whatever it was, Harry actually was quite sure that it would result in him losing the duel to Malfoy quite spectacularly.

"But you want to." Said Neville, crossing his arms. "He insulted my parents and you want me to do nothing."

"Neville, I never-"

But he was already standing, gesturing for Dean to follow him. Dean shot an apologetic look towards Harry before following, leaving Harry and Ron alone.

"What the hell was that all about?" Snapped Harry at once, running a frustrated hand through his hair, marvelling at the way his hair care potion allowed it to fall effortlessly back into place.

"Malfoy goaded him." Said Ron helpfully.

"Well, yeah," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "I know that, but what's his problem with me?"

"No idea mate," said Ron, putting his hands up in placation. "I just think what Malfoy said really got to him, I'm sure he'll come around." There was a beat of silence before Ron spoke again, more hesitantly this time. "You don't think he can beat Malfoy though, do you?"

"No." Said Harry flatly. "I think he could, but not right now. Something's wrong with him or his magic; he's doing almost everything right, but it's just not working."

"Not much we can do about it though, is there?" Asked Ron, looking very much as if he would like to do something about it.

The gears in Harry's head were turning, the beginnings of a plan beginning to take shape. "That depends," he said cautiously. "do your brothers know any good hiding spots near the trophy room?"

* * *

**September 12th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**7:39 PM.**

Harry had no idea how the twins knew such a good hiding place off the top of their head, nor how they knew exactly where the person — or poltergeist he was looking for was, but he didn't complain, he simply accepted their help graciously and left, thankful that they had asked for nothing in return.

To Harry's delight, Peeves was exactly where he expected him to be, trying to do something to a sink in the boy's toilet on the third floor. "Peeves!" Snapped Harry, catching the poltergeist's attention at once.

He whirled on Harry, a malicious grin spreading across his face. "Ew! Ickle Potter came to play with Peevesy!"

"No," said Harry quickly, not even wanting to imagine what Peeves's idea of "play" would be. "I've come to offer you a chance to cause some mischief, and to negotiate if I have to."

Peeves's face changed at once, now he was wearing a look of surprise. "You want Peevesy to cause mischief?"

"Yes," said Harry. "two students are in the trophy room about to duel at 8:00. I'm sure it will already be chaos. You could go down there and cause them some hell, make Filch clean up the trophy room and get two of them in serious trouble."

"Why only two of them?" Asked Peeves, his attention caught, he was hanging on every single one of Harry's words.

"Because the other two are my friends, since I told you about this, I think it's only fair that you let them get out; help them, even."

Peeves scratched his chin. "I've never done fair, ickle Potter. What will you give Peevesy if he helps your ickle friends?"

"What do you want?" Asked Harry, eyes narrowing.

Peeves smirked maliciously again.

* * *

**September 12th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Trophy Room.**

**8:03 PM.**

Neville fidgeted anxiously as he paced back and forward in the room, waiting for Malfoy to arrive. Was he going to show up? What would happen if he did? Could he really beat him? Had Harry been right? Not just about Malfoy showing up, but to doubt him?

His jaw set as the last thought crashed over him.

'No, I'm a Longbottom, I can beat a Malfoy.'

He felt betrayed by Harry, why didn't he believe in him? Didn't he understand the need to avenge his parents? This was Bellatrix's nephew after all.

The door slowly creaked open and in swaggered Malfoy, his annoyingly arrogant smirk well in place as his second, Crabbe, lumbered in behind him. "Are you ready to get to business then, Longbottom?" He drawled. "Or is Potter waiting to ambush me from behind a row of trophies?"

"He's not here." Said Neville defiantly. "Just me and you, Malfoy."

The boy smirked again. "I don't know who's going to have the easier task, Longbottom." Said Malfoy, scratching his chin as if he were in deep thought. "Whoever gets to play Potter in the first match of the season, or me getting to duel you." He smirked as he raised his wand. "On my count, three — two — one — go!"

"Rictusempra!" Cried Neville, managing only a weak trail of sparks which caused Malfoy to laugh.

"Tarantallegra!" Neville tried to dodge but felt the spell hit him and his legs began to dance uncontrollably underneath him. So caught up was Neville with staying on his feet that he didn't have time to avoid Malfoy's next spell. "Ferrum Ferro." Neville felt a blow like a baseball bat slam into his stomach and he fell, wheezing and unable to breathe to the floor. Malfoy and his friend were laughing now. "I suppose this is why Potter is always around." Taunted Malfoy. "I'd hide behind him too if that was the best I-"

But Malfoy broke off, having to pause in mid sentence as a trophy flew past his head, coming very close to knocking him clean out. "What the-" Another flew at him and he dodged again, Crabbe on the other hand was not so lucky, as he took a trophy to the solar plexus and hit the ground like he had been shot.

A mad cackling filled the air as Peeves materialized from out of nowhere, smiling gleefully at the lot of them as he flew after Malfoy, knocking over trophies and plaques in his pursuit as he picked up others at random and hurled them across the room.

Neville was on his feet now, his breath coming in long, drawn out heaves but on his feet nonetheless.

"We've got to get out of here!" Cried Dean. "Filch'll be here any second!"

"No!" Said Neville, seething with anger as he took aim at Malfoy. He couldn't get a clear shot as the boy was darting around and there were footsteps now, footsteps coming from the opposite entrance to the one Neville and Dean had taken.

"We'll catch them my sweet, oh don't you worry." Came the oily voice of Filch.

"NEVILLE!" Cried Dean but he wasn't listening, still trying to aim at Malfoy. Dean cursed, lunging forward and using his size over Neville to quickly force Neville into a headlock and forcefully drag him from the room, slamming the door shut behind them. Neville made to whirl around on Dean when another voice cut across his thoughts.

"Colloportus!" A jet of black light shot past Neville an inch to his left, impacting the door hard as Neville heard the lock click into place. He spun, and the sense of betrayal only grew when his eyes met vivid green ones that were all too familiar, though Harry only stayed for a minute before gesturing for them to run right a moment before he himself took off to the left.

Though Neville did indeed follow Dean to the right, his heart wasn't in it, only one thought permeated his mind as he ran.

'He really didn't believe in me.'

* * *

**Authors Endnote:**

**Well, a very up and down chapter this one. I hope you like the way I handled everything, I haven't seen the duel done in this manner so I am rather happy with it. **

**Bonus points to anyone who can guess where this dynamic between Harry and Neville is going before it plays out in the next chapter, which will take them up past Halloween. **

**Please read and review. **


	8. TSR Ch 8: Of Traitors and Trolls

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.**

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story.**

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.**

**The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned**.

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 8: Of Traitors and Trolls. **

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**September 14th 1991.**

**Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. **

**8:47 AM.**

It was a typical morning on the well kept street of Privet Drive. Many of the cars that were parked in the neatly ordered driveways were being warmed up and prepped for departure as the starting hour of work neared for many of the occupants. This uniform regularity was broken so swiftly and suddenly your could have easily missed it, as everybody on the street seemed to do.

There was an almost imperceptible swishing of a cloak as a tall, slim man appeared from seemingly out of nowhere. This man stood out against the uniformity of Privet Drive like the stars in the night sky, his odd clothes and long, silvery beard had been seen only once ever in these parts, and that had been when he himself had appeared here almost ten years previous to set into motion a plan that he believed at the time to be infallible. Unfortunately for him, he now knew that the very action he had last occupied these streets to perform had been a mistake, and he had yet to find out how costly that mistake would be for him, for the larger magical community, and for a small, raven haired boy whom he had unknowingly done a great injustice.

Pushing that last thought from his mind as best he could, the man walked down the street at a brisk pace, completely ignoring the many odd stares he was receiving as he made his way up the set of steps leading up to Number 4 and knocked several times on the front door. He waited several moments before he heard the sound of footsteps from the other side and then the door opened and Albus Dumbledore was looking at Petunia Dursley in the flesh for the first time.

"Ah," said Dumbledore, his eyes noticeably absent of the usual twinkle that adorned them. "the greatest of mornings to you Mrs. Dursley. My name is Albus Dumbledore, we have corresponded several times in the past for a variety of reasons, and I think it best if we have a true discussion face to face at long last."

By the time the ancient sorcerer left the house over an hour later, he was ashen faced and pale, realizing for the first time the true extent of what his decision had meant for the child of prophecy.

* * *

**September 16th 1991. **

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**6:00 PM.**

Harry felt rather nervous as he trudged his way down the sloping lawns of Hogwarts towards the massive Quidditch pitch and more particularly, the dressing room attached to it. Tonight was Gryffindor's first practice, and the first of Harry's Quidditch career. He had done exceedingly well with Wood the night of their individual practice, but that had been with tennis and golf balls, and without the interference of all of the other players. He had practiced over the summer as well, but that was nowhere near resembling a real match, lacking many of the variables that a true game of Quidditch contained.

On top of that, Harry had yet to meet any of the chasers; three girls who were all older than he was. The Weasley twins, the Gryffindor beaters, seemed quite ecstatic to have him on the team, but they were the older brothers of one of his best friends, and Harry suspected they enjoyed the fact he had essentially been rewarded for breaking a school rule by being given the opportunity to break another one, something that not even they would ever dare to achieve. He was unsure how the trio of chasers would receive him and was quite nervous about it. He had still really only been social for a few months, spending the prior ten years of his life either keeping to himself or locked in a cupboard; consequently, he still found himself a bit anxious in some social situations, especially with older students, girls nonetheless, a sex that he had had little to no contact with in his life spare his aunts Petunia and Marge, but he thought they only just qualified themselves.

His predicament with Neville hardly helped his social confidence either. It had been four days now and Neville had spent the entirety of that time resolutely ignoring him. Harry had thought he was doing the right thing saving him from Malfoy, he had thought he was being a good friend by trying to help the other boy, but Neville seemed to have somehow taken it as a slight, and Harry hadn't understood why.

"_He thinks that you think he's useless." _Dean had explained.

"_He's not useless!" _Harry had countered. "_There's just something going on with him, I'm not sure what it is, but his magic isn't working right!"_

"_I know mate," _Dean had placated. "_but that's not the way he sees it."_

"_What? Would he have rathered I let Malfoy trounce him because his magic isn't working? Wouldn't that have just made me a terrible friend for letting that happen?"_

"_I agree with you!" _Dean had reassured. "_But Neville is taking it really personally, he's ignoring me now too because I tried to tell him he was being stupid."_

And that had pretty much been the end of it. Neville had avoided Harry apparently because he felt that Harry thought him useless, and he had thus far avoided both Ron and Dean because they had sided with Harry. Harry felt hurt that his first and best friend had just left him so quickly, and he felt confused as to why, and had no idea how to rectify the situation.

'Maybe they were right.' A voice whispered in his head more than once. 'Maybe you are a freak even here. Freaks don't manage to keep friends.'

'Shut up!' Harry had told it, but the nagging voice had persisted, and he figured it would continue to eat away at him until he managed to resolve the situation with Neville, if not longer.

'IF you manage to resolve it.'

Harry was so lost in thought and worry he hardly realized that he had stepped into their dressing room. The walls were red with golden lines and the floor was white with an emblem of a lion taking up much of the floor's center. The room had gone completely quiet upon Harry's entry, and he felt his heart begin to beat faster and harder inside of his chest, feeling for all the world like it wanted to break free of its restraints within his body.

There was silence for a moment before a tall black girl got to her feet. She was taller than both of the twins, though a fair bit shorter than Wood, who was one of the taller students at the school. She had dark hair and eyes, sharp features and an athletic build. "So, you're Harry Potter, and our new seeker to boot?" She said, stepping closer to Harry as she looked down at him appraisingly.

Harry found his voice didn't quite want to work, but he managed to answer in a surprisingly neutral tone. "Yes."

She smiled at him, holding out her hand. "Nice to meet you Harry. I'm Angelina — Angelina Johnson, and the other two ladies are Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, you seem to know the guys." She smiled at him as he took her outstretched hand. "I've heard you're brilliant! The cup will be ours this year for sure!"

And just like that, the tension had been broken, and Harry's face split into a wide grin as the other two chasers stepped forward to introduce themselves properly. One agonizingly long Oliver Wood speech and an hour and a half later and Harry landed on the pitch again, his troubles momentarily forgotten as he wore a look of pure ecstasy.

'This is the greatest sport in the world!' He decided, hardly able to wait for his next practice.

* * *

**October 14th 1991. **

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Room of Requirement. **

**9:13 PM.**

Harry let out a cry of triumph as the dummy's head came clean off of its body, slumping into the chair at the desk that had magically appeared at his request. It had been a long night, he had promised himself that he would master Diffindo; the cutting curse by the end of it, and finally, barely forty five minutes before curfew, he had managed it.

In the month and a half since his arrival at Hogwarts, Harry had made what he felt to be great progress magically. He had mastered the disarming spell, the knockback jinx, the full body bind and all of its lesser variants, the nosebleed hex, the tripping hex, and a variety of other minor hexes and curses. He felt that he could pull off the stunner as well, but he had been hesitant to ask one of his two friends to allow him to practice on them, and he would not know for sure until he tried it on a live target.

On top of Defense, Harry had progressed extremely well in Transfiguration. Just the other day he had managed to transfigure a mouse into a snuffbox, something they would not have to do until the end of the year, and something that Percy Weasley had told him was often used as the end of year exam for first years in the subject. Consequently, Harry had mastered the first year curriculum in that subject, the one he considered his best, and was now contemplating on moving onto the second year material.

Charms as well were coming extremely easily to him, and he had nearly advanced to that course's end of year exam as well; making a pineapple tap dance across a desk. He could make his pineapple do more simple things, though a tap dance still eluded him for now.

Harry was not prodigious in Herbology, but was getting O's on his papers and was performing quite well in the class; though not to the level of Granger or Neville, who was completely on a level all his own when it came to that subject. He was getting a mixture of E's and O's in Astronomy, but it was a class he didn't really care for too much, as its applications lay mostly in divination, something he had read up on and realized you either had talent for or you didn't. It could be applied to some rituals as well, something Harry hadn't looked any further into yet, though it had piqued his interest. In these cases though, the book had stated that rituals usually came with specific instructions, and an understanding of Astronomy wasn't really necessary if you just followed the instructions.

He was also, to his great amusement and pleasure, getting O's in History of Magic, despite the fact he slept in most of those classes. He did, however, spend quite a bit of time reading the textbook, which he actually found to be quite interesting, so he supposed it wasn't all that shocking when he really considered it.

He was receiving mostly straight O's in the practical portions of Potions,, something that seemed to infuriate Snape to no end, and was getting low to straight O's in the theory, something he hadn't actually put a whole lot of thought into. What baffled him though was that in every practical lesson, one person always finished so far ahead of the rest of them. Daphne Greengrass, the same girl whom Snape had called upon on their first lesson to answer the question Harry had only partially managed to get correct, one that Harry had discovered pertained to a SIXTH YEAR POTION, finished her potions so far in front of the rest of them, Harry, who was pretty sure he was third or fourth in their year in the subject, was often only half way done when she handed in her perfect potion to Snape, a calm look of neutrality in place. Even Granger couldn't keep up with her, and she was easily the second best in their year at Potions. Harry had debated approaching the girl, but her cold, indifferent demeanour to anyone who wasn't the strawberry blonde girl who often accompanied her was enough to convince Harry that such action was not in his best interests.

Now though, exhausted and satisfied, Harry's mind wandered onto things beyond magic, and before it could find something more pleasant to think about like Dean, Ron, or Quidditch, it settled on a subject that remained rather painful for Harry to think about — Neville.

He had still not said a word to any of them, and Harry was fairly confident the only people whom he had spoken to at all out of anything beyond obligation in the past month were Seamus Finnigan, whom he often partnered with in Potions, and Hermione Granger, though Harry was fairly certain the latter was merely him asking questions. Harry was still unsure how to resolve the issue. He had, rather awkwardly and more than a bit reluctantly approached Neville to apologize, but the boy had slipped off as soon as he had seen Harry approaching, and Harry now found himself thoroughly stumped on what to do.

He had been toying with an idea for a while though, even though it was one he was not overly fond of. Now though, he found himself desperate, he wanted his friend back. He sighed, placing a piece of parchment in front of him and taking out his quill, not seeing any other avenues to explore.

_Dear Augusta,_

_I hope everything has been going well at the manor. Hogwarts has been fantastic so far and I am doing great in my classes, averaging O's in all but Astronomy, I'm not sure if my average is an O or an E+ in that one. _

_I'm writing you because me and Neville had a falling out and I don't know what to do. His magic just isn't working; he can barely perform any of the spells in class but he's doing everything right, wand movement, incantation — even his intent seems good. Anyways, he was challenged to a duel by the Malfoy heir and pretty much goaded into accepting. I didn't want him to get hurt or anything with his magic not responding properly to him, so I set up a trap for Malfoy and let Neville get away. He just gave me a death glare on the way out and hasn't talked to me since. _

_I tried to apologize but he just walks away. He won't let me get close to him and he won't even talk to our other two friends, Dean Thomas and Ron Weasley, because they've sided with me._

_Do you have any idea what's going on with him? Or do you have any advice on how I should try to help him? It's been a month and I miss my friend. I even think I have the solution to help his magic if he would just talk to me._

_Anyways, sorry if I rambled but I'm just a bit stressed out. _

_All the best,_

_Harry._

_PS: I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team; youngest seeker in a century! It's a long story, I'll explain in another letter. _

* * *

**October 31st 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Great Hall.**

**7:57 AM.**

_Dear Harry, _

_I am sorry it took me so long to respond. I have been out of the country for much of the time negotiating some trade deals for the family business and such. _

_I am glad you are excelling in your classes, I would expect nothing less from someone of your stock; especially when you add a work ethic as admirable as yours. _

_I am mildly disturbed by Neville's issues with magic and would love to hear your theory. Frank never had such issues, he took to magic like a fish to water, and Alice was a stellar student as well, so I can't imagine what Neville's issue is._

_As for your relationship, Neville is rather prideful and his ego has been hurt quite badly I imagine. I think a portion of the blame for your situation rests on me. I have always been rather hard on Neville, and have always done my best to prepare him to fight his own battles. I fear now that I may have been too harsh, and perhaps using his parents as reinforcement for that message did more than I had intended. I am unsure on how you could resolve the issues, but I will speak with him over the Christmas Holidays. I would do so sooner, but I would have to clear a meeting with Dumbledore, and as you have told me that he is suspicious already, I have no intention of bringing us to his attention._

_Please keep me posted on both yours and Neville's progress as well as making sure to owl me your theory on his issues._

_Continue to excel the way that I know you are capable of._

_Your parents would be proud, and I am too,_

_Augusta._

_PS: When is your first Quidditch match? I think I would like to come and watch. _

Harry folded the letter and carefully placed it into his bag, making a mental note to respond at his earliest convenience.

"Who's that from?" Asked Ron curiously, buttering a pile of pancakes as he spoke.

"Neville's gran." Answered Harry. "I asked her about him."

"And?" Prompted Dean, sounding hopeful.

"I don't really want to get into it, but she'll talk to him at Christmas. There are some — logistical issues that make it hard for her to meet him any earlier."

"That sucks," said Ron, stabbing at a piece of the pancake. "he's a good bloke, but he's gone a bit barmy since that duel."

Harry shrugged. "What do we have first?" He asked, knowing full well what they had but wanting to redirect the conversation away from Neville.

"Charms double." Said Dean excitedly. "Levitation charm today! We finally get to do practical magic!"

"About time!" Said Ron with a roll of his eyes. "I mean, we started ages ago in Transfiguration and that's definitely more dangerous than charms."

"Depends on what you're trying to do in each subject." Said Harry. "The transfigurations we've done aren't dangerous at all. We've been directing the intent into something else, and a transfiguration would not backfire the way a charm could."

"I stand corrected." Said Ron with a grin. "Merlin has spoken!" He added that last bit with a fair bit of drama and slammed his hand against the table as if it was a gavel, Dean cracked up, while Harry just rolled his eyes. His friends liked to take the mickey out of him for his academic prowess, especially when he had told them that he had already mastered their tasks for both the Charms and Transfiguration exams, and that he was now moving onto the second year material.

"I don't know where you get the time to study so much." Said Dean. Harry shrugged. He was hardly going to admit staying up past midnight most nights, he had never been a good sleeper anyways. Combine that with his near eidetic memory, something that made the tasks take far less time than normal, let alone his knack for performing the practical aspects of the magic without much issue. He also thought his foray into _Magical Theory _had been invaluable. The textbook was a treasure trove of information, and that was ignoring completely his personalized library in The Room of Requirement, something he had yet to reveal to any one of his friends.

Some time later they made their way up to the Charms corridor, and Harry found himself more eager for a lesson than he had been in ages. He knew he would perform the charm with ease, but that was hardly the point; he finally got to do it.

Flitwick gave them a lecture about the wand movement and the incantation, punctuating his lecture with a story about a man who had mispronounced the spell and ended up with a buffalo on his chest. Many seemed to grow pale, taking his statement at face value but Harry knew the theory too well to be fooled. A mispronunciation would not lead to a conjuration, it was far more complex than that, and he knew the little rhyme was nothing more than a trick to remember the incantation.

"...now!" Said the tiny professor eagerly, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "I am going to split you up into partners to perform the spell and help one another with it. So... Mr. Weasley with Mr. Thomas." Ron smiled at Dean, shooting a rather apologetic look at Harry. "Since we have an odd number of students, our next group will be made up of Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, and Eloise Midgeon." Lavender shot a rather crestfallen look at her friend, Parvati, but said nothing. "Mr. Potter will be partnering with Ms. Patil." He continued. Parvati shot a rather bright smile towards Harry, who returned it with a far more shy variant. Lavender glared at Parvati, but Harry had no idea as to why. "And finally, that leaves Ms. Granger with Mr. Longbottom. Now," he snapped, his eyes alight with anticipation. "partner up and begin; your feathers," he waved his wand, and a feather appeared on each desk. "await you!"

There was a scraping of chairs and a scrambling of people as everybody made to partner up. Harry made to stand but Parvati had already practically bounded over to him. He stood and pulled out her chair on reflex, having been trained to do so for years; one of the only practices of the Dursleys that Augusta had actually approved of. This earned him a glowing smile from the other girl.

"Thank you, Harry!" She said, taking out her wand and opening the textbook. "I don't suppose you're as brilliant with Charms as you are with Transfiguration?"

Harry blushed. "I'm pretty good, I think." He responded, earning him a raised eyebrow from the other girl.

"Oh?" she asked. "Care to show me?"

Harry nodded curtly, drawing his wand from his sleeve and imagining the slow rise of the feather as he swished and flicked his wand in perfect synchronization, not even bothering to read the textbook nor examine the wand movement diagram that Parvati had turned to.

"Wingardium Leviosa." He incanted calmly, and the feather gently rose off the desk, bobbing in mid air for several seconds before Harry let it gently fall back into place. Just then, he noticed that the entire class had gone quiet, and a moment later Flitwick was upon them, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he applauded, being joined a moment later by the rest.

"Oh my word, Mr. Potter! Very good! Very good indeed! My goodness, Minerva assured me you were the most talented first year she had ever taught and I admit, I had wondered if your skill would translate to my subject. Your mother was brilliant with Charms, just brilliant! Oh, she would be so proud now! Take fifteen well earned points for Gryffindor, Mr. Potter! Very good work indeed!"

Parvati just stared at him open mouthed as Flitwick skipped away from them. "How did you do that?" She asked, incredulous. "You didn't even practice or look at the book. You just — did it."

Harry smiled despite himself. "It's a gift." He answered.

"Is teaching one of yours as well?" She asked with a wry grin, flourishing her own wand towards the feather. He shrugged. Ron and Dean had come along way with his help over the past month. Dean was now challenging Hermione Granger for second in Gryffindor at least in Transfiguration, and Ron had easily taken fourth behind the three of them, though he was a bit more gifted than Dean in Charms it seemed.

Harry spent much of the next half an hour trying to teach Parvati how to do it, until, at long last, she managed it; only the fourth person to do so after himself, Hermione, who had managed it five to ten minutes after he had, and, to some people's surprise, Ron, who had managed it not five minutes ago.

Parvati squealed, throwing her arms around his neck and causing him to go rigid for a few long seconds, but she didn't seem to notice. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're an amazing teacher!" She beamed at him as she moved away, and now that there was some separation Harry smiled at her.

"Having a good student helps." He said modestly, causing her to blush fiercely as Harry's attention was caught by a commotion from behind them.

He turned and saw Neville, red faced and determined looking with his wand trained on the feather in front of him, looking very much like he had just completed the wand movement. The feather did not so much as move but he did not stop. His eyes were pressed shut in concentration and sweat was pouring down his face. Harry watched, transfixed as the feather gave a single twitch, but still Neville did not stop. To Harry's horror, a thin line of blood began trickling from out of Neville's nose. Flitwick made to step in, and Harry too made to step forward but the feather began to rise into the air as the stream of blood grew ever thicker. Then, hovering a few feet above the desk, the feather burst into flames, sending ashes down onto the desk.

The class was completely silent as Neville wobbled in his chair, opening his eyes and staring slack jawed at the feather in front of him. He did not give Flitwick nor Harry time to say a word, as before either of them could react he was on his feet and out of the classroom, and Harry knew for certain in that moment that his suspicion about Neville's problem had been correct.

* * *

**October 31st 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Great Hall. **

**6:07 PM.**

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harry scanned the table anxiously, waiting for Neville to arrive. He had decided at this point that all subtlety had been lost. He would make Neville listen to him, even if he had to place him under the full body bind curse to do it. But he hadn't seen Neville since their Charms lesson and it was beginning to bother him. He didn't really have any desire to be at the Halloween feast in general, as though he thought he was well and truly over it, he did find the idea of celebrating the deaths of his parents rather bitter sweet. He had come though, mostly to try and intercept Neville, but it did not seem as if the shy boy would show up at all.

Harry turned to Seamus, who was the last of the Gryffindors to enter the hall. "Oi! Seamus!" He called, catching the Irish boy's attention. "Have you seen Neville since Charms?" The other boy winced, walking a bit closer to Harry to whisper, though his voice was still a bit loud for Harry's liking.

"I — em — yeah, I did." He admitted, sounding rather sheepish. Harry raised his eyebrows and Seamus's voice grew quieter. "He — em, was up in the washroom on the second floor. He — em, didn't look so good."

Harry nodded, resolving to get to the restroom in question as soon as possible as he reached for a baked potato. Just as he was doing so, the doors to The Great Hall slammed open and Professor Quirrell came staggering through them, eyes wide and looking for all the world like he was about to keel over from a heart attack.

Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped. "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar as pandemonium spread across the hall. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects!" he rumbled. "Lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

As they made their exit from the hall, Harry's eyes sharpened on the place Quirrell had fainted, he was noticeably absent. "How could a troll get in?" Dean asked as they climbed the stairs, drawing Harry's attention off of the suspicious actions of their defense professor.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid." said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke?"

"I don't see how he could've though!" Said Dean, turning to look at Harry. "What do you know about trolls?"

Harry rolled his eyes, of course he would ask him over the pureblood who should know far more than he ever could. "They tend to live mostly in mountainous regions, there usually anywhere from ten to fifteen feet tall, lack most of the common human brain functions, have enhanced strength, they can be enraged quite easily, and have magic resistance skin; it'll stop anything short of the dark arts, or particularly well aimed spells."

"And how do you know all that?" Asked Dean, sounding half impressed and half exasperated.

"I read." Said Harry pointedly. "It's one of the first creatures mentioned in _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them_."

"You really are as bad as Granger." Muttered Ron. At the mention of Hermione Harry froze, remembering whom she had partnered with in Transfiguration. The others turned to look at him.

"Neville." he breathed out. "There's a troll in the castle and Neville has no idea!"

Ron glanced around anxiously. "You-you reckon he'll be alright though, don't you?"

"I'm not taking the chance." said Harry, making to slip into a group of passing Ravenclaws.

"Oi!" Exclaimed Ron. "What are you-"

"You don't have to come with me." Hissed Harry, beginning to make off with the Ravenclaws.

"Like hell we don't!" Exclaimed Ron, Dean too nodded, following the two of them. "He's our friend too mate, don't hog all the fun."

Quickly they followed the Ravenclaws. As they climbed the stairs after them, Harry noticed a shimmer in the air. His eyes focused and for the briefest of moments, Harry thought he saw the swishing of a familiar black cloak that he thought belonged to his least favourite Potions professor.

Harry ignored it as they reached the floor Seamus had mentioned, breaking off towards the bathroom. "Um — do you smell something?" Asked Dean a few moments later as a horrible stench reached their nostrils. Ron gagged, but Harry quickly clamped a hand over his mouth as he heard loud, thumping footsteps. They glanced around the corner and Harry could have done a Quirrell and fainted with shock.

"Of course we had to run into it."' He muttered before his mind flicked back to Quirrell. 'It was a trick.'

The troll opened a door along the corridor and lumbered inside. Seizing the moment, Harry lunged forward, jabbing his wand towards the door. "Colloportus!" The jet of black light found its mark and the door slammed shut. Ron and Dean whooped in celebration, and Harry too felt rather proud of himself until they heard a loud, terrified scream from inside the bathroom and they all went pale and screamed back as one.

"NEVILLE!"

Harry didn't even think as he lunged forward, jabbing his wand at the door again, this time to achieve the opposite effect. "Alohomora." The lock clicked and the door swung open, Harry charged in, not really comprehending what he was doing, nor the fact that his two friends were hot on his heels.

The sight that accosted them upon entry was something straight out of a horror movie. Neville was pressed up against the far wall in a sitting position, looking wide eyed up at the troll, who advanced on him, club in hand, grunting with satisfaction as he neared his intended prey. For a second, Neville's eyes found Harry's and they widened, he shook his head, one last gesture to his former friend, one that Harry read clearly but had no intention of following.

'Get out, save yourself.'

"Oi! Pee brain!" Called Harry, forcing the troll to wheel around to face him. The thing grunted, clambering towards Harry at the same leisurely pace it had done Neville. "Flipendo!" Cried Harry, flicking his wand towards the troll. It stumbled for a second, looking as if it had run into some invisible force field but a moment later it was moving again.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Cried Dean, levitating one of the sinks off of the wall and bringing it down hard on top of the troll's head, it staggered but didn't fall.

"Good one, Dean! Get all of the sinks!" And they began to pelt the troll with sinks from the wall but it was no good. The troll continued to advance and it was only mere feet away now. Then, from out of nowhere, Neville let out an animalistic cry of defiance, leaping an impossible distance and winding up on the trolls back. They all froze, and for a moment, Neville looked as stunned as the troll. Then, the troll began to buck wildly like a bull, trying to unseat Neville who was now desperately hanging on. Then, in what must have been a last ditch effort, Neville drove his wand so hard up the troll's nose that Harry heard it snap. A second later, they were all blown backwards by the sheer explosion of magic that was caused as the troll turned its head sharply, snapping Neville's wand clean in two. The magic coalesced in a brilliant white light and when it cleared, Neville was on the floor, clearly dazed, but so was the troll. It had taken the brunt of the magical outburst and seemed to be quite unsure of where it was. It slowly got to its feet but stumbled, still clearly off balance as it began to swing its bat at nothing. Harry raised his wand, wanting at least to make the troll less dangerous as he took aim at the rapidly swinging club.

"Diffindo!" As the troll swung upwards, Harry's spell found its mark, severing the bat clean in two as the upward momentum of the trolls final swing sent one of the two pieces straight up into its own skull and, finally now more than just dazed, the creature fell backwards with a horrible CRASH! clearly unconscious.

'Well, that worked out better than I meant it to.'

They all stood there, stock still and frozen for several seconds before a small voice spoke from the corner of the room. "M-my wand." Harry looked, and saw Neville holding the two pieces of his father's now broken wand, a dumbstruck look on his face. Slowly, cautiously, Harry made his way toward Neville, but was caught off guard a moment later when the door behind him slammed open, revealing professors Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, Quirrell and Dumbledore.

"What on earth were you all doing!" Screamed Professor McGonagall once their shock had seemingly worn off, though Quirrell was still standing there slack jawed. Dumbledore merely observed the situation, and Snape made his way over towards where the troll had fallen, his face completely blank as he bent to examine its fallen form.

"It was Neville, Professor." said Harry a moment later, his voice struggling to come out. "He-he wasn't at the feast. He had an, uh ... accident in Charms and had been missing all day. When we heard about the troll we - we didn't want him to just stumble across it so we - we-"

"Chose to do what was right instead of what was easy." Came a soft, quiet voice from the doorway. Harry turned, it was Dumbledore who had spoken, and his voice still seemed completely and utterly calm as his eyes twinkled like mad.

"What was right?" Snapped Snape as he straightened up. "With all do respect, Headmaster, Potter and his group of delinquents could very well have gotten themselves killed along with Mr. Longbottom." He sneered. "And where would our world be without the famous _Harry Potter_?"

"That's enough, Severus." Said Dumbledore, his voice was still perfectly calm and quiet, but he did not need to raise it to get his point across, Snape fell quiet at once. "None of you shall be punished for your actions tonight." Decreed Dumbledore. "You will, however, be rewarded. It takes great courage to face situations such as this, more so still to face them willingly. For courage the likes of which I have not seen in many years, Gryffindor will be awarded twenty points each." They all stared at him slack jawed. "I do however," he said a moment later. "wish to warn you that such actions may not always yield such favourable results. What the three of you did tonight was courageous, selfless, and noble beyond all question; though it was also, in many ways, if you will forgive me for saying, rash, foolish, and impulsive. I would strongly warn any of you against taking such action in the future, though I do applaud you for both your bravery as well as strength of character."

His eyes rested on Harry's for a brief second, though he spoke to the others. "Fillius, if you would please accompany Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing, I believe a calming draft is in order at the very least." Flitwick bustled forward, whispering something to Neville as he helped the boy to his feet and made for the door. "Minerva," he added. "please assure that both Mr's Weasley and Thomas return safely to Gryffindor tower. Mr. Potter will be along shortly, I would like a word with him." She nodded and Harry felt his heart constrict. "Quirinus," he continued, "I would like it very much if you could make sure that our dear friend here sees its way off of the Hogwarts grounds. A school is no place for such a creature, and your affinity with the creatures should allow you to get it off of the grounds in a most efficient manner." Quirrell nodded curtly, levitating the body of the troll off of the ground as he made his exit. McGonagall followed him out of the door with Ron and Dean in tow, shooting worried looks at Harry, who smiled at them reassuringly. "Severus, please wait for me up in my office, I will be there at my earliest convenience." Snape nodded sharply, swishing his cloak in a rush of movement and storming out of the door. Then it was just Harry and Dumbledore, and the old man closed his eyes for several seconds before he spoke again.

"First and foremost, are you at all hurt or injured, Harry?"

"No." He responded truthfully.

Dumbledore held out his hand, and the two pieces of wand that Neville had dropped flew into it. Harry blinked, he had never seen someone do magic without a wand before. "I am assuming that these are the remnants of Frank Longbottom's wand?"

Harry nodded, but felt confused. "How did you-"

"I happen to be rather close friends with Garrick." He said with a small smile. "That is, of course, Mr. Ollivander. He happened to tell me that Mr. Longbottom's grandmother neglected to get him a wand. According to his account, she seemed to believe that his father's would suffice." Dumbledore shook his head. "Do you see the flaw in this way of thinking, Harry?"

"Yes sir." Answered Harry at once, actually quite glad that Dumbledore had confirmed his theory. "The wand chooses the wizard, it won't work properly for anyone who it hasn't chosen. That's why Neville's been having issues in class."

"Mostly on the mark." affirmed Dumbledore. "Some wands, as you say, will remain stiff and unyielding to any who is not their true master. Others," he continued. "will bend more easily to those who do not truly possess them."

Harry may not have been fond of the headmaster at the moment, but he certainly respected the man's knowledge. "So, Neville's dad's wand is one of the former?"

"It would certainly seem so, yes."

"And-and that's what's cause Neville issues? Is that also why he bled today in Charms?"

"That is a two part question, Harry." noted Dumbledore. "I do not claim to be a specialist in wand lore," he warned. "but I do have decades of experience as an avid consumer of magical theory, so I will do my best to answer." Harry shook his head slightly, bemused. He didn't understand why Dumbledore downplayed his knowledge so much when he clearly knew the answer to both questions.

"I believe the answer to the first," he began. "as you yourself have already guessed, is yes. A wand that resists its wielders commands will hardly allow for success with practical magic. The second," he continued. "is a bit more complex. You see, it is not the wand that caused Mr. Longbottom physical trauma today in Charms, but he himself." At Harry's confused look, Dumbledore went on.

"The wand is a conductor, Harry, nothing more, you must remember this. You saw, no doubt, me use magic a moment ago without a wand?" Harry nodded. "It is possible to do so, though it is much more difficult. In most cases, using a wand as a focal point aids witches and wizards from all over the world in the task of casting magic. Mr. Longbottom however," the wizened wizard stated, "was using a wand that was not his own. I believe, and again, I am no expert, that the conductive qualities of the wand were completely negated by its unnatural fit. Picture a wand as a long, open tube that one uses to push their magic through. Now, in the case of Mr. Longbottom, imagine the same long tube, though with the smallest imaginable opening." Harry nodded, finally understanding what Dumbledore was saying. "Mr. Longbottom tried too hard, he tried to force his magic through such a small hole. He pushed and pushed against the resistance when the only thing that could have perhaps aided him in doing so was a true subtlety and understanding of his magic; something that one can not possibly possess at an age as young as yours and his."

Harry nodded slowly, understanding now. "Come," said Dumbledore, gesturing to the door. "I must return you to your common room before Minerva has my head."

Harry felt rather awkward as they walked. Dumbledore had been completely kind to him, but the last time they had met face to face, Harry had stormed from the room. He wanted to ask Dumbledore something, but he felt as if he was giving far too much away to a man whom he didn't fully trust, and it felt like a stretch to believe that Dumbledore would answer his question.

"Curiosity is not a sin, Harry." said Dumbledore gently a second later. "If you have a question, you are more than welcome to ask." Harry felt almost as if Dumbledore were trying, in some odd way, to make up for their last meeting, so he decided to test how committed to that goal he really was and take the plunge, also choosing to ignore the fact that Dumbledore seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

"Sir, when we all left the hall, Professor Quirrell wasn't there; but he showed up in the bathroom with you and the other professors. And…" he paused. "didn't you say he had an affinity with trolls?" Dumbledore nodded. "Well... isn't the whole thing a bit suspicious?"

Dumbledore did not answer for several seconds, and Harry was sure he would be scolded for being presumptuous, but Dumbledore spoke in the same calm voice a moment later. "You are very perceptive, Harry." He said with a smile. "Yes," he answered a moment later, causing Harry's mouth to fall open at his candidness. "I do find it rather suspicious myself, and I think it but one of a string of suspicious events centering around young Quirinus Quirrell." He paused for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts before he spoke again. "I would, especially considering your status, be very wary around Professor Quirrell, Harry. I would advise you in fact, to avoid him outside of your Defense Against The Dark Arts lessons if at all possible."

"Is he a dark wizard or something?" Asked Harry, confused as to why he would be at Hogwarts at all.

"I am — unsure at the moment." Admitted Dumbledore. "These are only suspicions after all, but I am not willing to rule out the possibility." He looked at Harry then, the first time he had done so properly that night. "I have, in good will and faith, told you far more than you should know, Harry." Said Dumbledore. "I would very much appreciate it if, in a return of such good will, you would keep all of this to yourself and avoid further investigating the situation on your own."

Harry blinked. He was hardly going to rush off after Quirrell, somebody who he knew could potentially be dangerous. "Of course, sir." He said, Dumbledore seemed to be satisfied for he nodded. Moments later, they came to the Fat Lady's corridor and Harry made to step forward and give the password when he felt Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder. He tensed, not expecting the touch and felt Dumbledore retract his hand quickly.

"My apologies, dear boy." said Dumbledore, and Harry, who had turned to face his headmaster was legitimately taken aback by the sheer amount of sadness behind the ancient sorcerer's eyes. "I did not mean to catch you off guard." He paused for a moment before speaking once more. "Harry, I am truly and immeasurably sorry for the wrong I have caused you through my actions in the past in regards to your home life." Harry stiffened but Dumbledore went on. "I do not know who your guardians are at present, but I give you my word that should I find out, I will take no steps to remove you from their care." He paused. "Unless, of course, I have very good reason to do so, which in your case, I highly doubt I do. Furthermore," he went on. "I will personally assure that you never have to return to your aunt and uncle's house on Number 4 Privet Drive." Harry looked at him confused.

"Sir, I appreciate it, I really do, but why the sudden change of heart?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Your words, and more importantly, your display at the end of our last meeting forced me to do something I should have done years ago; something I WISH I had done years ago." At Harry's blank look he continued. "I am talking, Harry, about investigating your home life." He spoke softly now, more so than Harry had ever heard him do before. "I know what they have done to you in vivid detail, Harry." He said. "I have, for now, left them to their own devices, as I do not believe it my place to take vengeance in your stead. If however, you wish to pursue such actions, I have procured legal evidence that if presented to the magical authorities and relayed onto the muggles through — other means, would land your relatives in a fair heap of trouble." Harry nodded, oddly touched by the gesture and thankful that Dumbledore had not just gone ahead with it, for he wasn't truly sure what he wanted even now. "If you ever need to talk," offered Dumbledore. "my door is always open, as a matter of speaking. Just remember, my pet gargoyle is rather fond of lemon drops." He smiled. "Goodnight, Harry."

And with that he was gone, sweeping back up the corridor at a brisk pace.

"Goodnight, Headmaster." Harry said softly, and now his emotions towards Dumbledore were more jumbled and confused than ever.

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**Authors Endnote:**

**Not as long as some of our other entries, but perhaps the most important chapter so far. Next chapter will be quite short in comparison to our recent entries, (just under 6k words) but it admittedly will serve as a transitional chapter to get them to the holidays. Chapter 10 is similar in length to the next one, but the chapters get longer once more after that.**

**If you can not tell, I am quite far ahead in the writing of this story, I have the entirety of the first year written already, though doing so has taken up much of my time as of late. This is also why my other stories haven't updated recently, as I have been trying to get ahead on this one, since I have long term plans that I would really like to see play out sooner rather than later. **

**Please read and review. **


	9. TSR Ch9: Plots, Politics and Progress

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

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**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 9: Plots, Politics and Progress Part 1.**

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**October 31st 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. **

**The Headmaster's Office. **

**7:37 PM.**

Severus Snape paced up and down for the millionth time in the headmaster's office, his rage overflowing as he waited for the old man's arrival. As if on queue, the door slid quietly open, and in stepped Dumbledore himself, looking far older than Severus had seen him since the conclusion of the last war.

"Well?" Snape demanded, his anger and impatience boiling over.

"He is more perceptive than either of us anticipated." Said Dumbledore simply, causing Snape to blink.

"What?"

"Harry, he-"

"Perceptive!" Thundered the potions master. "The boy rushed head first into a near certain death and he's barely been at Hogwarts two months. Pardon my ignorance Dumbledore, but I fail to see how that is in any way perceptive."

"You are forgetting that he rushed, how did you say, head first into near certain death for a friend. Is that not admirable enough for you, Severus? Can you not relate to young Harry's situation?"

"Don't!" Hissed Snape, his voice sounding like that of a wounded animal. "Don't guilt me Dumbledore. Get on with it."

Dumbledore sighed. "Very well. My assessment of Harry's perceptiveness does not come from his impressive achievement against the troll, it comes instead from somewhere completely different." He pierced Snape with those brilliant blue eyes, and Snape felt his Occlumency shields subconsciously slide more firmly into place. "He suspects Quirrenus."

Snape's eyes widened for a second before he too sighed. "Of course he does." He muttered. "Leave it to a Potter to be as troublesome as they can be."

"We are in agreement then that Harry's curiosity could be problematic." Said Dumbledore candidly, to which Snape scoffed.

"Problematic? The boy is every bit as arrogant as his father and more so for that matter. Even Potter Sr. at his worst was not foolish enough to believe he could best a mountain troll at the age of eleven!"

"And yet," said Dumbledore diplomatically, "Harry did manage to best the troll."

"Through what fluke we may never know." Dismissed Snape. "His luck will run out Dumbledore, and we better hope that it does not do so while he chases after Quirrell in some deluded sense of curiosity or self obligation."

"I do not believe Harry will chase after Quirrenus just yet." Said Dumbledore, causing Snape to curse under his breath at the "just yet" bit. "He seemed taken aback by my suggestion that the idea would even occur to him. No, I believe we have a great deal of time before he feels desperate enough to do something as drastic as that, by which time we will hopefully have Quirrenus in a cell, and whatever remains of Lord Voldemort trapped or destroyed."

"So," started Snape cautiously, "you truly do believe that Quirrell is acting on the will of The Dark Lord?"

"I am almost certain of it." Affirmed Dumbledore. "There are signs, horribly disturbing ones at that." He noted.

"You speak of a trap," noted Snape, "yet you will tell none of us what that trap is?"

Dumbledore suddenly looked ancient once more. "Not all of the staff are as accomplished with Occlumency as you, Severus." He reminded. "I am uncertain of how much if any of his powers over the mind that Lord Voldemort retains while attached to Quirrenus, but it is a risk I am unwilling to take."

"And for those of us who are blessed with those mental shields?" Asked Snape dryly.

"You would think me a heartless leader who would endanger the lives of his students for the greater good." Dumbledore practically spat the last few words, and the venom in his voice took Snape aback.

"I wouldn't." He scoffed, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"I am not sure you would not, Severus." He said. "At any rate, the trap is not yet ready. I am having — difficulties acquiring the final implement, though I hope to have it in place by the end of November."

"And if Quirrell makes his move before that time?"

"I think it unlikely he will." Said Dumbledore. "Voldemort will not allow him to act until he is as certain as possible as to which defenses he must overcome, and he will certainly not act without a plan in place to help him do so."

Snape shook his head. "You don't think you are discounting insanity when it comes to his decision?" Asked Snape.

"No," said Dumbledore, "I am not entirely of the opinion that Lord Voldemort was ever insane. I simply believe he was and still is heartless and vastly over confident."

"And the latter would make me believe he may act early." Noted Snape with some distaste.

"Forgive me Severus," said Dumbledore with a small smile, "I neglected to mention that Lord Voldemort's overconfidence never quite seemed to stretch to matters including myself." His eyes twinkled for just a moment and Snape could have sneered at Dumbledore as privately, he thought both the headmaster and The Dark Lord may have the trait of overconfidence in common.

"I shall hope you are right." Said Snape curtly. "He did make a move tonight, and if I hadn't followed him up to the third floor, we may very well be chasing him and Flammel's stone right now."

"I think tonight was nothing more than an evaluation." Argued Dumbledore calmly. "He would not have proceeded without a plan, but to develop said plan he would have had to scout out as many of the defenses in place as he could."

"Are the others all in place?" Asked Snape. "Aside from your trap, of course."

"Yes," said Dumbledore simply, "they are."

"And you think they will stop him, or even slow him down?"

"I think Fluffy may, but I think it unlikely the others will do so, no. My main goal is to lure Lord Voldemort into a false sense of security."

"Fluffy," spat Snape with some venom, "nearly took my leg off tonight." He raised the hem of the robe to show the gash in his leg. It was no longer bleeding thanks to his own prowess, but it was still a mess.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I am sorry for your pain Severus, though I thank you for your bravery and commitment to the cause."

"If a student wanders in there?" Warned Snape.

"We have done everything we can to prevent that from happening." The look of sadness on Dumbledore's face took Snape aback. "The door must be accessible for Quirrenus, it would not do for him to struggle with wards long enough to murder passing students or professors. We want him to pass through that trapdoor, remember, and I personally would like to avoid casualties in the process."

Snape shook his head. "I would think putting a cerberus in a school an odd way of doing so, but I suppose you are the man they call the most brilliant wizard alive."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "The first test must be the most trying. We want Voldemort over confident, not suspicious."

Snape shook his head again. "You understand him on an oddly deep level." He commented.

Dumbledore sighed. "I do." He agreed. "When you are as old as me, you meet some rather interesting people and live through some rather trying experiences. It is a combination of those two things that allow me to understand Lord Voldemort the way that I do."

"We shall hope you understand him as well as it may seem." Said Snape. "What of Potter? When do you think he will make his move, since you clearly think he will?"

"Not until he realizes the true extent of the situation." The headmaster Answered cryptically. "And not until he has the means of doing so."

Snape bit his lip, annoyed by the vague answer but he knew the old man well enough to know that he would receive no more insight on the matter of Potter.

"I do however," said Dumbledore, "think that Quirrenus may make a move on young Harry long before that." He said, causing Snape's eyes to narrow. "Especially if he realizes Harry's suspicion towards him."

"You don't think the troll had anything to do with Potter?" Speculated Severus.

"Perhaps," conceded Dumbledore, "but I doubt it. Voldemort could never have known Harry would have stumbled across it. I am sure he is thrilled that he did, but I think their encounter nothing more than a troubling coincidence." Snape nodded. "Do be watchful at the Quidditch match, Severus." Dumbledore added making it sound like little more than an afterthought "It would not do for me to attend and make Quirrenus realize we may be onto him, but I think it as good a spot as any for him to make his move on young Harry's life."

Snape nodded curtly. "I will be ready." He vowed.

Dumbledore smiled. "Of that, I have no doubt. Goodnight Severus."

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**November 6th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. **

**The Quidditch Pitch.**

**7:14 PM.**

Harry exited from the changing room after his final practice before the looming match against Slytherin the following day feeling rather content. Where October had been a rather trying month for him, November had been perhaps the best of his life so far. He and Neville had talked for hours the night of Halloween and Harry had explained to him exactly why his magic was not responding the way he'd have liked. It had been painful for Neville to hear, but it had been very necessary, and the results of the discussion had improved both his mood and his performances greatly.

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Flashback

**October 31st 1991.**

**The Room of Requirement.**

**9:12 PM.**

It had been a rather large leap of faith for Harry to show Neville his secret room, but he felt as if Neville needed to know that Harry trusted him and valued him as a friend, even going as far as to reveal that he had not yet showed the room to any other, and that he had no plans of doing so anytime soon. They had discussed the last month first, and Neville had admitted that it had been hard but that he had been furious with Harry.

"Nobody has ever believed in me." He said. "My uncle thought I was a squib-"

"The one who tried to drop you out of a window." Noted Harry a bit coolly.

Neville nodded a bit sheepishly. "Yeah, that one. Anyways, most of my family agreed with him, all the other purebloods at the parties never gave me the time of day, and even gran — I'm not sure if she ever really believed in me."

"She did." Argued Harry at once. "She still does Neville; I talked to her and she said there is no reason you should be struggling, she realizes your potential better than anybody; it's why she's so hard on you."

Neville smiled sadly. "You might be right, but you don't see it that way when you're six and seven years old. Anyways, you were the first one who believed in me, and when I thought you didn't…" he shook his head, "it hurt — it hurt a lot."

Harry nodded, understanding now for the first time the pain Neville had gone through. They were not all that different, and if Neville had told Harry he was a freak or that he was worthless, he wasn't sure that it wouldn't have broken him. "I understand." He said honestly. "But you know I believe in you right? I just — I knew something was up with your magic."

Neville nodded. "You said it was dad's wand?" Harry had mentioned it briefly on the way to the room.

"I know it was," he informed his friend sadly, "I even asked Dumbledore about it and he agreed with me."

"But it was a great wand," said Neville, his voice shaking as tears threatened to make themselves present once more, "he was a great wizard — a hero."

"Yes," said Harry, "he is, but that doesn't mean his wand would work for you. The wand chooses the wizard, Neville." He said when he saw the other boy's blank look. "Do you not remember that was the first thing that Ollivander said to me at the wand shop — well, at least after gushing about me and my parents."

Neville nodded. "Gran always thought it was self promotion."

"Has the last month not proved otherwise?" Asked Harry, and Neville nodded slowly. "Dumbledore had a good analogy," he said a bit grudgingly "he said that a wand was a conductor, he compared it to a long open tube, and we push our magic through the tube to work instead of just forcing it to listen to us; we use the tube to direct it." Neville nodded. "He said that when a wand isn't compatible, it's like the wizard is trying to force their magic through the same tube, but with the tiniest imaginable opening. He said that your accident today in Charms was because you were basically trying to force your magic through a wall."

Neville nodded sadly. "Gran will be furious though." He said nervously.

"No, she won't." Harry promised, and he knew he was right. "Your dad's wand broke, but its final act was a brave one. It took down a mountain troll, and did it because you were brave enough to act, you risked your life to save us even though you were mad at us."

"Of course I did!" Said Neville fiercely. "You're my friends." He faltered a moment later. "W-we are still friends, r-right?"

Harry looked at him for a moment, taking on a forced look of neutrality. "I have two conditions." He said calmly and Neville's eyes went wide with panic. "The first," he began, "is that when you wake up tomorrow, the first thing you will do is go to McGonagall and tell her you need to talk to your gran. When you talk to her, you don't let her cut across you, you tell the whole story the way it happened and you tell her what I told you about the wand — you make her listen if she doesn't want to." Neville hesitated for a moment but then his jaw set and he nodded.

"And second," Harry continued, his eyes almost glowing in a way that made Neville a bit uneasy, "no more stuttering, no more looking at the ground. You have to learn the same thing that your gran taught me; the only way to get respect is to look your friends and opponents in the eye and speak with confidence." Neville made to cut in, probably to say that he wasn't confident but Harry didn't give him the chance. "You should be confident. You are the Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom, son of two of the bravest people alive and the bravest person that I have ever met."

Neville's mouth fell open and he gaped for a time before slowly, ever so slowly, he looked up at Harry, meeting his eyes with an intensity that he had never seen in them before speaking. "I accept your conditions." He said, and his voice did not waiver.

Harry smiled and held out his hand, nodding approvingly when Neville took it and shook it firmly. "Good to have you back Neville," he said with a smile, "I missed the brother I always wanted."

Neville's beaming smile made the month and a bit wait all worth it, and Harry knew that things were going to be on the up for both of them.

* * *

**The Present**

**November 6th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. **

**The Quidditch Pitch.**

**7:15 PM.**

Harry smiled at the memory; Neville had come a long way since that day. He had, as promised, floo called his grandmother the next day and she had acquiesced in purchasing Neville a new wand, one made from Ebony with a Unicorn hair as its core. He had, as well, been far more outwardly confident since that day. There were still moments when doubt flashed in his eyes, and Harry could tell that he still didn't believe in himself quite as much as he was leading some to believe through his actions, but Harry was sure that his level of confidence would rise along with his prowess, which was increasing at a startlingly fast rate.

He and Neville had spent hours in the Room of Requirement for the first few days after he acquired his new wand and now he was near the top of the year in Transfiguration, with him, Dean and Hermione locked in a close battle for second in their year in the practical side of the subject, though Granger certainly had the edge on everyone aside from Harry when it came to the theoretical side, and Harry suspected the two of them were very close in that aspect. Neville was doing quite well in Charms and Defense Against The Dark Arts as well, though he admittedly still struggled greatly with Potions. He still didn't deal well with Snape looming over him, and Harry was sure that he was doing it deliberately.

Speaking of Neville, the boy himself was making his way towards him; he had evidently been waiting for him in the stands, something he had made a habit of doing when he didn't have homework to finish.

"Neville." Greeted Harry, smiling at his friend as Neville fell into step beside him.

"Harry," he returned with a smile that carried no trace of nervousness, "practice looked like it went well."

"Were you there the whole time?"

"Yeah," he admitted, "I was doing Charms homework for a lot of it, but I was looking up every few seconds." Harry smiled. "Do you think you're ready to play Slytherin tomorrow?"

Harry didn't respond at once. "I'm as ready as I'll be." He decided. "I know the team is ready, and I know I'm probably better than Higgs — their seeker, but I'm pretty nervous to be honest."

Neville nodded. "That's probably not a bad thing." He commented. "It would be strange if you weren't at least a little bit nervous."

"Oh," said Harry as they drew ever closer to the castle itself, "I'm a lot more than a little bit nervous." He admitted.

Neville just shook his head. "You're brilliant in the air!" He said confidently. "You'll do great."

Harry smiled at his friend, but he jumped about a foot into the air when a minute later, he heard a soft, cool voice from behind them.

"Excuse me."

Harry spun, drawing his wand as fast as he could as he whirled to face the tall, slim girl with platinum blonde hair and icy blue eyes;

'Snape's potions prodigy.'

"Ms. Greengrass, correct?" Asked Harry. Neville had been jump scared quite badly, but he was recovering quickly, if not as quickly as Harry had; he had years of recovering from similar scares.

She inclined her head in affirmation and held out her hand, "I do not believe we have been formally introduced." She said, her voice smooth and confident and her face one of polite neutrality. "I am Daphne Greengrass, Heiress to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Greengrass."

Harry knew her family was rivaled only by the Malfoy's in terms of wealth in magical Britain, though many suspected hers to perhaps be even more wealthy than the Malfoys, and they were the only current family that held more votes in the Wizengamot. Being one of the founding twelve families of Magical Britain had its perks.

Harry took her outstretched hand, marvelling at how soft the skin was before placing a kiss on its knuckle. "A pleasure to meet you, Heiress Greengrass," he said, silently thanking Augusta for the crash course in etiquette, "I am Harry Potter; Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter and this is Neville Longbottom, Heir to The Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom."

The girl inclined her head to Neville. "A pleasure, Heir Longbottom." She greeted before turning back to Harry, reaching a hand into the pocket of her robes before withdrawing what appeared to be an envelope and handing it to him. "Please respond to this as soon as possible." She said, and Harry marvelled at the authority in her voice; she had clearly mastered a commanding tone and posture, her voice confident and powerful, her posture straight as she looked down on him but he was unphased; he had years of experience when it came to people taking that kind of tone with him.

He nodded. "Thank you, Heiress Greengrass." He said, inclining his own head before he and Neville began to make their way up to the castle.

"Where did she come from?" Asked Neville, sounding taken aback.

Harry shrugged. "She did seem to just appear from nowhere, didn't she?"

"Is there a spell for that?" Asked Neville.

"Probably, but I have no idea." Said Harry, making a mental note to research the subject as he thought it would be quite useful. "If so, it's probably way beyond first year level." Neville nodded as they entered the castle and Harry opened the envelope and read the letter over quickly.

_Finest of greetings,_

_We and our family would like to extend our invitation to you for our annual New Year's Eve ball this year to be held in our ancestral home. _

_Please respond as soon as possible._

_Best wishes,_

_Cyrus and Celia Greengrass: Lord and Lady of The Ancient and Most Noble House of Greengrass._

Harry blinked; he had never so much as said a word to Daphne, he failed to see what he had done to earn an invitation from such a prestigious family. He supposed being The-Boy-Who-Lived may qualify, but it was odd for their family to invite him as from what he knew, they weren't a family that leaned towards the light.

"Neville," asked Harry, drawing the other boy's attention as they neared the common room, "what do you know about the Greengrass's?"

Neville thought for a moment. "They're the leaders of the neutral faction in the Wizengamot," he began, "they're probably one to the two richest families in magical Britain but nobody really knows the extent of their wealth since they're really secretive and don't go around showing it off like the Malfoys. They have the most seats on the Wizengamot, run a massive import/export business and are believed by some to own businesses in the muggle world too. Oh," he added, almost as if he had forgotten, "and they're one of the founding twelve families of magical Britain."

Harry nodded slowly. He had known all of that with the exception of the tidbit relating to muggle businesses, but Neville hadn't exactly sounded sure, and that wasn't something that took place too often anymore.

"They've invited me to their New Year's Eve ball." He said conversationally, causing Neville to gape at him.

"Really?" The other boy asked, his voice hitched a bit on the first syllable but he managed not to stutter, Harry nodded. "It's just — that's like — the biggest social gathering of the year outside of the one they do on Samhain; they invite all kinds of powerful and influential people." He smiled. "Gran thinks their party is the main reason why the ministry does their ball on the eve of Yule now; apparently it used to be on New Year's Eve, but she reckons they don't bother since all of the purebloods who they'd most want there pretty much all show up to the Greengrass's."

"Have you ever been?"

"No," he admitted, "I'm not sure if we've ever been invited, but if we have, Gran has turned it down."

Harry nodded as they approached the Gryffindor common room. Daphne Greengrass and her family had now given him yet another mystery to ponder, but they had at least taken his mind off of his impending Quidditch match against Slytherin the next morning, something he would only later realize that he was extremely grateful for.

* * *

**November 7th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Great Hall.**

**7:56 AM.**

Harry had been a bit late to breakfast the following day because the first thing he had done was send off a letter to Augusta asking her advice on the Greengrass matter. This hadn't bothered him as his stomach was churning and he didn't think there was any way food was going to sit well with him. He didn't get a chance to talk with Neville either, something that didn't help his nerves one bit as he was beckoned over to sit in the center of the table with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Wood had tried to convince him to eat something, egged on by the twins but he didn't. Just taking his potion had been more than enough for his liking, he didn't need anything more in his stomach today, he was hardly sure it would stay down and wouldn't that be a fantastic way to embarrass himself in front of the entire school?

Harry had been meant to be their secret, but naturally the whole school knew, as even Harry was all too aware that nine out of ten Gryffindors couldn't keep a secret if their life depended on it. He wished they could, as he had been the result of several nasty attempted hexes and curses from the Slytherins in the hallway this last week. It had gotten to the point that Wood tried to stop him from wandering the halls without an older student accompanying him at all times. Harry always managed to mercifully slip away to the Room of Requirement to practice magic each evening though.

On top of the attacks, Harry had been the center of much of the schools attention since the rumour had leaked and privately, he wasn't sure which was worse; people telling him he would be great, or Malfoy telling him that he would make sure somebody stayed under him with a mattress in hand.

He was snapped from his thoughts when he felt a soft touch on his arm and he tensed, turning to find one of the chasers — Katie Bell, looking at him. "It's time." She said, removing her hand from his arm as she stood. Harry took a breath, he didn't like being touched in the best of times, let alone being jump scared. He stood too though, his prized Nimbus 2000 tucked under his arm as he followed the rest of the team from the hall, their departure being accompanied by thunderous cheering and foot stamping from the Gryffindors and cat calls from the Slytherins; though the latter was mostly drowned out by the former.

Before he knew it he was dressed in the changing room, sitting with his head down and his heart racing as he waited for their signal to enter the stadium. Wood stood in the center of the room, his face resolute and determined.

"Gentlemen," he began but was cut off quite quickly.

"And ladies!" Protested Alicia.

He smiled. "And ladies," he acquiesced, "today is an important day, today we find out if our hard work has paid off. Today we can confirm what we already know, that we are the best damn team at this school!" He looked at all of them. "Slytherin have dominated lately," he admitted, "but the first few years of that we had a great seeker and nothing else." Harry knew from Ron's stories about his older brother that Wood was speaking about Charlie Weasley's final years at Hogwarts. "Since then," he noted, "we've had a solid team, but no seeker worth his broomstick." His eyes came to rest upon Harry. "Now," he said rubbing his hands together easily, "we have the best chaser squad Gryffindor has put forward since Harry's dad was captain, we have the best dynamic duo Hogwarts has ever seen, and we have a seeker so damn talented that he's the youngest to play the position in a century!" He glared at all of them, seeming to dare somebody to contradict him but nobody did. "We are better than Slytherin!" He intoned, and the self belief was evident in his voice, Harry truly believed that Wood meant every word. "Now, we just have to prove it! Lions on three! One, two, three!"

"LIONS!"

Wood gestured for them to take their positions to walk out onto the pitch, clasping each of them on the shoulder before taking his place at the front of the line as they heard Lee Jordan's magically magnified voice ring out through the stadium.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the opening match of the season between our most heated rivals, Gryffindor and Slytherin!" There were a chorus of cheers and boos from the crowd, and Lee continued a moment later. "Now, let's welcome the young squad that captain Oliver Wood has put together; ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Gryffindor Quidditch team!"

There were thunderous cheers as they made their way out towards the pitch, each player taking off into the air as their name and number were called. "Number one, Wood! Number 2, Weasley! Number 3, Weasley! Number 4, Johnson! Number 5, Spinnet! Number 6, Bell! And number 7, Potter!" Harry's name got a louder reception than any other, as the Gryffindors exploded in a way that had not been done for any other of their players, and the Slytherins in turn matched them with their own sounds of disapproval.

They rose into the air, flying a lap at top speed as a team in a hawk eye formation before coming to hover above center field as they waited on their opponents.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," said Lee, though his voice was now definitely lacking the anticipation and gusto it had carried just a moment earlier. "I present to you the reigning Quidditch champions of the past six years, Slytherin!" They made their way out onto the pitch and Lee began to call them by name. "Bletchley, Bole, Derrick, Pucey, Montague, Flint and Higgs!" Their was definitely a more hostile reaction overall for Slytherin, though if any of the players noticed they didn't let on.

What seemed like a second later they were at center field waiting for the game to begin and Harry's heart was beating so hard he felt as if he were squaring up to the troll once more. When Madam Hooch finally gave a short blast on her whistle Harry kicked off hard, shooting into the air faster than anyone else, thanking his state of the art racing broom for the advantage in acceleration.

The match was fast and action packed, with Gryffindor's speed and Slytherin's brute force clashing head on. Harry was a demon, breaking up plays everywhere and even stealing the quaffle on several occasions and playing it up to the chasers, something that threw the Slytherins for a loop but something that Lee helpfully reminded everyone that was not banned in the rules of Quidditch, sounding for all the world as if Christmas had come early. Harry had been rather proud of himself for finding that loophole and had been quite surprised more seekers didn't do it. Wood explained it was just so out there that he doubted most seekers had ever even considered it. Harry had thought that at least more Muggleborns would have considered it, but the twins put in that most people couldn't actively play chaser and hunt the snitch at the same time, but Harry mercifully had no issue multi-tasking.

Soon enough they were up by forty points and Harry saw a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye. His heart rate sped up once more as he dove at once, figuring they had enough points for him to go ahead and end it, knowing that the house standings would largely be based on overall scoring. Harry's heart leapt into his throat when he saw Higgs swerve in front of him from out of nowhere but he just managed to avoid the head on collision as he swerved, suddenly seeing an unimpeded path to the snitch. Just as suddenly, something slammed into him hard from the side, and Harry felt his shoulder erupt in pain as he was sent spinning away, catching a glimpse of Marcus Flint's smirking face as his orientation came back to him.

Madam Hooch quickly called their penalty and Angelina scored, putting them up by fifty points but Harry didn't care. Now he really just wanted to end the match, as he was fairly certain the hulking chaser had done something possibly serious to his shoulder with that foul. He shot straight up, breaking up a play by the Slytherins as he soared higher than any other player and hovered near the center of the field, trying to catch a glimpse of the snitch from his vantage point. He expected the bludger which he dodged easily, as the Slytherin beaters would hardly let him perch there for the rest of the game, but what he did not expect was for his broom to give a rather painful lurch, and for him to very nearly be unseated.

It happened again a moment later, and again not a moment after that, and seconds later his broom was bucking like a bull, pulling him slowly upwards as it did so, causing him to flatten himself against the broom in an effort to stay on but it was no good. Before he knew it he was dangling by one hand as his broom rose higher still, continuing to buck furiously in its efforts to throw him through the air. The Weasley twins had abandoned the game completely and were now circling underneath Harry, seemingly prepared to catch him if he fell. The only player at all who seemed to still be playing was Flint, who had already scored six goals and was coming in for his seventh.

Harry knew without a doubt he was going to fall; he was already slipping off and his arm was growing more tired by the moment. The question was when, not if, so when he spotted the fluttering golden ball only a few inches from his head, he had little reluctance in taking his hand off of the broomstick and making a wild grab for the snitch, feeling his fingers close around the small golden ball as he began to fall, coming to two realizations in the few seconds before his vision went black. One was that he really hoped the Weasley twins would catch him and the other, far more disturbingly ironic realization was that his broom seemed to have stopped bucking a second before he had let go, at which point he had already committed.

'Typical.' He had time to think as he plummeted towards the ground, suddenly wishing that Malfoy really had got somebody to run below him on the pitch with a mattress.

* * *

**Authors Endnote:**

**I warned you that this would be a shorter chapter, as is the next one. Chapter 11 is fairly long, but the 10k + word chapters have come to an end for now.**

**One final thing before I sign off. I know I did not explain the whole founding twelve families of Magical Britain thing, and it will be mentioned again a couple of times before it is elaborated on. It will be explained later in the story, but I wanted to do so organically and in a way that wasn't just a forced info dump.**

**Please read and review.**

**PS: The next chapter will be out next Wednesday, December 18th 2019.**


	10. TSR Ch 10: Plots, Politics and Progress2

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

* * *

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. **

* * *

**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

* * *

**Authors Note:**

**A bit of a filler chapter aside from a major revelation near the beginning but hey — necessary all the same and the story will really pick up pace after this one.**

* * *

**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 10: Plots, Politics and Progress Part 2.**

**November 9th 1991.**

* * *

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Headmaster's Office.**

**10:41 AM.**

Severus Snape did not bother to knock on the headmaster's door, and he completely ignored the polite, "enter" that came from the room beyond the heavy oak door before he could even knock; he simply slammed it open, much like he did in his Potions dungeon for dramatic effect. Here though, it was sheer anger not at all subsided by his passive Occlumency which drove him to throw the door open in such a manner.

Dumbledore looked up pleasantly, but his face became immediately more serious when he glimpsed the expression on his Potions Master's face. "What has happened?" He asked, skipping his normal preamble.

"Quirrell has made his move on Potter." Spat Snape. "He attempted to bewitch the boy's broomstick to fly straight into the ground."

Dumbledore's eyes darkened. "I am taking it that you were successful in defending Harry, seeing as I do not see a full scale riot outside and by your use of the word attempted?"

"I would have been." Hissed Snape. "If it wasn't for the boy's own stupidity and lack of self preservation!"

"Explain." Ordered Dumbledore.

"Potter threw himself off of his broom from a hundred and god knows how many feet in the air at the first sign of gold while his broom was out of control."

Dumbledore's face paled and worry flashed in his eyes for the briefest of moments. "Is he-"

"He is alive." Said Snape heavily. "Minerva managed to catch him on his way down; he is injured, but will be fine in due time." Snape looked mildly more concerned than he sounded. "I underestimated Quirrell." He admitted. "I was able to negate the worst of his curse, but I could not counter it completely no matter how much magic I put into my attempt. The broom did not fly into the pitch at terminal velocity as Quirrell doubtlessly intended, but it still did its utmost to throw Potter from it despite my best efforts." He sneered. "Ironically, if it hadn't been for the Granger girl, Potter would likely have been thrown off of his broom before he had a chance to try and kill himself."

"The Granger girl?"

"A first year Gryffindor-"

"I am aware of who Hermione Granger is," interjected Dumbledore patiently, "what I am curious about is the role she played."

"She must have noticed my attempt to counter Quirrell's attempted murder." Said Snape, sounding almost approving. "Clearly, she suspected the wrong culprit as she lit my robes with blue bell flames." He sneered again. "Luckily for her and Potter alike, her ineptitude caused her to knock Quirrell over and break his eye contact." He scowled. "It is a shame that Potter tried so hard to take his own life anyways."

Dumbledore looked tired and Snape could practically hear the gears turning in his mind as his own anger continued to boil.

"A rather clever plan," he admitted, "it would have looked for all intents and purposes as if the inexperienced first year merely lost control of his broom." His eyes were void of any and all signs of their usual twinkle. "It is — disturbing that he managed to seize control of that broom wandlessly. I do not believe Quirrenus would be capable of it alone."

"You believe The Dark Lord is aiding him directly?"

"He must be," said Dumbledore thoughtfully, "Quirrenus was always bright, but he lacked the magical power required to breach such wards as the ones on that broomstick, let alone without a wand."

"Is there any possibility he is not Quirrell at all?" Asked Snape, a trace of worry slipping past his mask of indifference. "Could The Dark Lord simply be using Quirrell as a facade?"

"I do not think so," said Dumbledore, "I believe that Lord Voldemort is using Quirrell's body as a sort of container, possessing him perhaps, or something of a similar manner. I am quite certain that he does not have the means to be in control of a body; if he did, he would be uninterested in the Philosopher's Stone."

"He always valued wealth." Countered Snape, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"He may have, but he is chasing the stone for the soul reason that he believes it would restore him to a body."

"Would it?" Asked Snape, sounding curious for the first time.

"I am uncertain," Dumbledore admitted thoughtfully, "though if Lord Voldemort thinks it would, I have little reason to doubt him; he knows far more about such a branch of magic than I likely ever will."

"What now?" Asked Snape, still looking murderous.

"We continue to wait," said Dumbledore regretfully, "I will attend the next Quidditch match personally and I will assure that Quirrenus knows of my presence; hopefully then Voldemort will realize our suspicions and rush his plans along. By that time, the final piece of the puzzle will be in place."

"Have you still not procured it?" Asked Snape.

"I am close," promised Dumbledore, "the owners have been rather hesitant to lend it to me; as they should be. They do not want to give it to me without knowing what I plan to do with it, and of course, I can not tell them."

"Who has it?" Questioned Snape, sounding more curious still.

"A very powerful family based in France are the owners," said Dumbledore, "though it serves a purpose far larger than their family."

"Flamel?"

"No," said Dumbledore with a smile, "Nicholas did own the artifact in question for several centuries, he created it in fact, but it is not in his possession anymore and hasn't been for many years." Dumbledore sighed. "I wish it was, it would make things much easier."

"You are confident you will procure it soon?"

"Oh yes," Dumbledore assured, "we are very close to striking a deal, once I prove I can uphold my end, the artifact shall be moved here quite quickly; though it will take some time to attune to the magic of the castle, and the wards themselves will need to be altered to allow it through."

"It is a dark artifact then?"

"By definition it is not," said Dumbledore, "though I would certainly classify it as an artifact quite near the top of that spectrum and would never let it near this school if the circumstances were at all different."

"So we just wait," said Snape unhappily, "we wait for Quirrell to make as many more moves on Potter's life as he chooses just to spring this trap of yours?"

"It is the only way," sighed Dumbledore looking ancient for the first time during their conversation, "I have complete faith that between the two of us, we will be able to keep Harry alive for the duration."

Snape scowled. "We better, Dumbledore," he warned, "or this will be the last of me you shall see at this school." And he turned, cloak swishing dramatically as he stormed out of the office, leaving Dumbledore to smile sadly at his back as he left.

* * *

**November 9th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Hospital Wing.**

**7:12 PM.**

Harry awoke with a jolt and the sudden feeling of falling after a long, restless sleep filled with visions of flying bulls that bucked wildly when he tried to ride them, and a number of disturbing scenarios all involving strange men in turbans who always seemed to want to kill him. In his sudden jolt awake, Harry tried to sit up but winced painfully at once, flinching a moment later when a pair of hands eased him back into the pillow as he heard another pair of feet scamper off somewhere. He heard somebody's voice tell him to relax and a moment later, he saw an older looking woman with greying hair and a strict but kind face make her way towards him.

"Ah," she said in a satisfied manner, "Mr. Potter, finally awake, are we?"

"Um — yes ma'am." Answered Harry, not entirely sure who this woman was.

She smiled kindly at him. "I suppose you must be confused, my name is Madam Pomfrey and I am the school matron. Now, let's get you looked at, shall we?" She made her way over to him and drew her wand. He flinched, his eyes closely following the implement in her hand as she traced it over him, assuring him that she was casting nothing beyond basic diagnostic spells.

A few minutes later she straightened up, looking satisfied once more. "Well, everything is in order. Your ribs are still on the mend, as is your head, but they are healing nicely and you should be fine to leave here tomorrow morning." She glanced at the others gathered around his bed whom he had not noticed until now. "Only a few minutes," she warned them, "he needs his rest. There will be plenty of time to talk to him tomorrow." And then she bustled off again, leaving Neville, Ron, Dean, the Gryffindor Quidditch team and oddly enough, Hermione Granger to surge towards him.

Harry's eyes found Neville after searching him out. "What happened?" He asked him. His memory was foggy; he remembered taking off, he remembered being fouled by somebody and being quite upset by it and then he remembered his broom bucking wildly and him making a grab for the snitch.

"Your broom sort of — wigged out." Said Neville, seemingly lost for words on how to describe it. "It started flying higher and higher and was shaking like mad, I have no idea how you stayed on it. And then-then…" his voice trailed off.

"It was terrifying," put in Ron, "brilliant, but terrifying."

"It wasn't brilliant at all!" Protested Katy. "It was stupid and almost got him killed!"

"You went for the snitch," explained Dean, who seemed to see the look of confusion on Harry's face, "except when you did, you let go of your broom and just fell." He shook his head as if to rid himself of the image. "McGonagall stood up and waved her wand. You sort of slowed down and bounced when you hit the ground. It was still bloody terrifying though."

"Still caught the snitch!" Said Wood proudly. "We trounced them even though Flint was shooting goals the whole damn time we were trying to make sure you didn't get killed." He scowled. "You should've seen the look on his face when everybody realized you had caught the snitch; he was furious, it was brilliant!" He became rather sheepish a second later when the three chasers, Granger and Neville all glared at him. "Uh — it was stupid too, of course, don't do something like that again." He admonished lightly, but Harry could tell his heart wasn't in the admonishment.

"Pomfrey." Warned one of the twins, looking over his shoulder to the swiftly approaching matron. "We'll catch you later, Harry." He said with a wink, and the team began to make their exit. His friends followed but Neville passed closely by him, slipping what felt like a crumpled piece of parchment into his hands before leaving. Harry had to marvel at his ingenuity as Madam Pomfrey made sure that everyone had left the room before summoning a house elf to bring Harry some food and making her way back into her office. When Harry was sure she was gone, he opened the note from Neville and read.

_Harry,_

_There's something I need to tell you. _

_Hermione Granger came to me after the match and said she saw Snape cursing your broom. She mentioned that he was muttering under his breath and wouldn't take his eyes off of you; she reckons he was trying to do you in. I was talking to gran about it before she left; she came to see you play by the way, and we were in the hospital wing together after the match. She said that she saw Quirrell doing the same as Snape and once I told her what Hermione said, she reckons that Quirrell was muttering the counter curse. _

_She's never trusted Snape since the last war. He was a Death Eater who turned against You-Know-Who to spy for Dumbledore, but she's always suspected him and she said he apparently hated your dad. _

_Anyways, I figured you'd like to know if somebody was trying to do you in, and Hermione Granger will probably talk to you about it, so get ready for that, she's a handful once she gets going, but she seems like she means well._

_Have a good night and I'll see you in the morning,_

_Neville._

Harry only pondered the situation for a few short moments before the truth hit him and he could have laughed aloud. Snape, his least favourite professor at Hogwarts and somebody who seemed to legitimately despise him had been doing his utmost best to assure that he survived the Quidditch match while Quirrell, the man who would likely be credited as his saviour tried to kill him from a few seats away. He actually almost felt bad for Snape, and would have if the man hadn't taken every available opportunity in and out of class to verbally abuse Harry.

What didn't make sense to Harry though was why Quirrell would risk blowing his cover to try and kill him.

'Was the troll somehow supposed to kill me too?'

He doubted it, Quirrell could never have imagined he'd have run into the troll. Why then had he let the beast in at Halloween? The answer came to him a moment later.

'A distraction. But for what?' He asked himself. 'Why did he need to distract everybody?'

He remembered how Quirrell had been next to Snape when the professors had arrived and how Snape had been in a particularly foul mood that day. An image flashed to his mind from only a day ago, Snape's bleeding leg in the staff room when Harry had tried to take back the book Snape had taken from him. "_How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" _He had said, and yet another memory drifted to the forefront of Harry's mind, one of the very first things of interest that had come from the mouth of the Hogwarts headmaster.

"_And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."_

Suddenly it clicked, and all of a sudden Harry was kicking himself for not seeing it earlier. Quirrell must have gone off to the third floor corridor, likely to investigate for himself whatever was in there and Snape must have headed him off and been attacked by — something with three heads? It made no sense to Harry why any creature like that would be in a school, but that was beside the point.

'That's all great, but how do I fit into this.'

This gave him pause. Why had Quirrell tried to kill him? Had he known that Harry suspected him? He supposed it was possible, but he didn't see how the professor could have. He thought about everything he knew about Quirrell. The older students said he had changed dramatically in his year of absence, the bright, cheerful, confident young man who had taught muggle studies suddenly being replaced by the stuttering mess that was their Defense Against The Dark Arts professor. So what could have changed? What could have made that man want to murder Harry? There was only one man alive who Harry knew wanted to kill him. Unless…

"_The Dark Lord is alive."_

It all came together as Harry's eyes widened in horror and he opened his mouth to scream before restraining himself at the last possible moment. Quirrell wasn't Quirrell at all. He was Voldemort. The reason he had changed so much was because he wasn't the same person at all, he just looked the same. Instead of finding himself a new body, Voldemort had simply taken another. Yet another flash of memory played through Harry's mind, the final words that the goblin had spoken to him at Gringotts during their meeting.

"_If he ever does manage to regain physical form, and I think that quite likely, you will be his primary target."_

It all made sense, and Harry was fairly sure he had put the pieces of the puzzle together. Now though, the question was what to do with the information. His first thought was to tell Augusta, but he discarded it quickly. She would have him and Neville removed from Hogwarts in an instant, and Harry had no desire to be removed from the place he found to be more a home than any other. His next thought was to tell Dumbledore, but he still didn't entirely trust the old wizard. He decided to file that one as a last resort, seeing as Dumbledore had apparently been the only one whom Voldemort had ever feared, but he wouldn't go out of his way to do so. At any rate, he suddenly realized that Dumbledore may very well know already; he had been quite vague in their discussion about Quirrell.

Harry sighed, closing his eyes and resigning himself to do everything he could to prepare himself, hoping that Voldemort's initial failure would deter him from any further attempted murders in the near future.

* * *

**November 10th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Gryffindor Common Room.**

**8:05 PM.**

Sure enough, Hermione Granger had pulled him aside first thing that morning. Harry agreed with Neville, she seemed to have a good heart, but she was rather relentless. In the end, Harry had just agreed to her theory, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. The rest of the day had been fairly uneventful and now Harry, Ron and Dean were finishing up their homework for Snape when the common room door finally opened and Neville hopped in — quite literally hopped. Harry's eyes snapped up immediately as he noticed his legs were completely out of control.

"Malfoy," snarled Neville as he collapsed into a chair, his legs still kicking madly, "he cursed me from behind." Harry growled. He had thought Malfoy would back off of Neville once he realized that Neville was just as competent as him with a wand, instead, it seemed that Malfoy had just become more cowardly in the way he went about it.

"Finite Incantatem." Said Harry, pointing his wand at Neville and causing his legs to stop kicking immediately. "Let's go." He told Neville, quickly packing his stuff into his bag and getting to his feet.

"W-where are we going?" Asked Neville, sounding very taken aback.

"To practice," said Harry as he took Neville's arm, half leading, half dragging his fellow Gryffindor out of the common room. "If you think I'm going to let Malfoy just curse you from behind without making sure it doesn't happen again, you have another thing coming."

They spent several hours in the room that night, not leaving until several minutes after curfew and having more fun than either would like to admit while they snuck back to the common room. Harry had taught Neville both the knockback jinx and the disarming spell, as well as the Finite Incantatem, which would counter any minor jinx or hex. He had wanted to teach him more but they had ran out of time fairly quickly. Despite their time restraints though, Harry was very happy with Neville's progress. Not only had he gotten a handle on both of the spells, but now, he seemed to have grown two inches, and Harry could have sworn that his confidence had increased by several magnitudes in the past hour alone.

'We may need to make a habit of this.'

He wasn't going to forget himself though. He had to improve himself at an even faster rate than Neville, as he had to contend with far more than playground bullies; Draco Malfoy had nothing on the greatest dark lord of the millennia, and Harry silently thought that though it would likely be difficult, the shield charm would be a good place to start.

* * *

**December 9th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**8:58 AM.**

Harry, as well as many of the other first year Gryffindors had nearly been late to their first of two Potions lessons that week because that morning at breakfast, Professor McGonagall had inquired of each of them their plans for the Christmas Holidays. Harry had taken a great deal of pleasure in telling her that he would not be remaining behind at Hogwarts for the Christmas Holidays, something that made her eyes go wide. He could tell that she had been dying to ask the question, but she had showed restraint and not done so. He was sure that news of that decision would reach Dumbledore before long but he didn't care. He didn't trust the old man completely, not by a long shot, but he did honestly believe him when he said that he was finished medaling in Harry's home life. At any rate, the filling out of said forms had assured that almost every member of Gryffindor house arrived after all of the Slytherins had already taken their places just outside of Snape's door.

"Potter," came a smooth, satisfied sounding drawl from nearest the door, and Draco Malfoy stepped towards him, flanked, as usual, by his two troll like bodyguards.

"Malfoy." He greeted coolly, his hand twitching towards his wand.

"I heard you're staying with Longbottom for Christmas, Potter." He informed him. "Is it true?"

"I certainly hope so," said Harry dryly, "you and your family wouldn't be worth much if your connections didn't come through with some facts every once in awhile, would you? You don't have a whole lot else to offer, do you Malfoy?"

"Rather rich coming from you, Potter." Hissed Malfoy. "Talking about somebody else's family when yours is either dead or if they're alive, they despise you so much they won't even let you come back for Christmas."

Malfoy had crossed a line and from the brief shimmer of worry in his eyes, Harry figured he knew it too. He went for his wand, meaning to curse Malfoy into oblivion but he wasn't fast enough.

"Flipendo!"

Malfoy flew backwards at a neck breaking speed, slamming hard into the wall with a massive thud and slumping to the floor, groaning and half conscious. Harry turned, jaw agape as Neville stood, his wand trained on the fallen pureblood as he shook with rage.

Everybody in the corridor was completely silent, nobody seemed to be able to believe what had just happened; even Harry was staring at Neville in wonderment and the boy himself might have looked surprised if his eyes hadn't been lit by a burning, all consuming fury.

Then, Crabbe and Goyle surged forward, both reaching for their wands with one hand as they each reached out towards Neville's throat with the other. "Protego!" Snapped Harry, causing his shimmering blue shield to manifest between Neville and Malfoy's lackies.

He had been correct in his assessment that the shield charm would be an overly difficult one, by far the hardest he had attempted thus far during his time in the magical world. It had taken him quite a bit of time to manage it, and even now, after countless sessions of practice, he still found that it was not at its maximum capacity, and was actually probably quite weak compared to what it could be, though it was growing stronger and stronger with every attempt. It did however, have more than enough magical power behind it to stop the two goons who had surged towards his friend, as they simply bounced backwards, stumbling as if they had ricochet off of an invisible barrier, which, he supposed, in a way, they had.

"What is going on?" Asked a very quiet, very cold voice from the doorway as Snape stepped out into the hallway, his dark eyes growing, if possible, even colder as they fell on Malfoy's fallen form. "Who has done this?" His voice was more dangerous than Harry had ever heard it and his black eyes roved over him immediately, hatred blazing within them.

"It was Longbottom, Professor." Spoke up Pansy Parkinson at once, drawing the attention of the entire corridor. Her voice was an odd mix of scared, vengeful and victorious. "Draco was talking with Potter and Longbottom attacked him from out of nowhere!"

"That's rubbish!" Snapped Ron, who had also drawn his wand and still held it loosely in his hand. "He told Harry that his family was either dead or hated him. He deserved it!"

"Ten points for speaking out of turn, Weasley." Snapped Snape and his voice was still low and cold. "It is not for you to decide the virtue of others and what they do and do not deserve." His eyes found Harry briefly before coming to rest on Neville. "And twenty points from you Potter for performing magic in the corridors between classes. As for Longbottom," he said, his lip curling, "I am afraid I underestimated you." He said coolly. "Never would I have imagined somebody so blatantly incompetent able to perform such powerful magic." Harry was surprised when Neville's only reaction was to glare back at Snape. "Unfortunately," he continued silkily, "the magic in question was ruthless, barbaric and had nothing at all to do with Potions, which is the only magic you are supposed to be performing at this time." Snape raised his wand and something silver shot from its tip so fast that Harry couldn't make out its shape.

"I will summon the head girl to continue this lesson, I will be taking Longbottom to the headmaster's office to discuss further action, as well as Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing." He bent over Malfoy, draping his arm over his shoulders and causing Malfoy to whimper in pain. "Come, Draco," said Snape, speaking softer than Harry thought him capable, "up you get." He glared at all of the gathered students. "You will stay here, and if there is any conflict between you, I will see to it that your punishment is more harsh than Longbottom's, and I assure you that you will be in far worse a state than Mr. Malfoy."

He swept off. Harry shot an apologetic look to Neville but the boy didn't look worried. His face had not shifted and he still looked just as defiant as the moment after he had cast the knockback jinx. Harry couldn't help but feel a bubble of pride coraless in side of him, taking its place beside the same sized bubble of guilt that had formed as soon as Neville had been caught for acting on his behalf.

* * *

**December 9th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Great Hall. **

**12:07 PM.**

Neville was already sitting at the Gryffindor table waiting for Harry, Ron and Dean as they too entered the hall. Harry had performed rather substandardly in Potions that day, and he actually had not fallen asleep in History of Magic, having instead spent the entirety of the class worrying over whether or not Neville had been expelled. The look on Neville's face now did little to relieve him, nor did it give him any true indication to what may have happened up in the headmaster's office.

"Well?" Asked Harry, uncharacteristically abandoning tact or decorum.

"I'm not expelled." Said Neville flatly, still looking a bit dumbstruck. "I do have detention every Saturday morning until the Easter holidays though." The look of confusion grew. "But I-I won us back the points you and Ron lost, and twenty extra."

"What?!"

* * *

**Flashback**

**December 9th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. **

**9:38 AM.**

Neville had to endure quite a time in the hospital wing alongside the Potions Master as he was assured that his treasured pupil would make a full and speedy recovery. Neville's knockback jinx had been strong enough to break his collarbone and to give him a major concussion, but Madam Pomfrey had assured Snape that he would be out of the hospital wing the very next morning.

Now, they walked, Neville and Snape, wordlessly towards a rather regal looking gargoyle that Neville knew from Harry to be the guardian of the headmaster's office. "Lemon drop." Muttered Snape disdainfully, clearly loathing the mundane password that had been chosen by the headmaster, Neville had to resist the sudden urge to snicker as they rode the long, spiraling staircase up to the oak front door.

'He really is going barmy.'

Before either could knock, they heard a soft "enter" from inside, and Neville saw Snape roll his eyes as he opened the door, ushering Neville in ahead of him.

"Mr. Longbottom," greeted Dumbledore, his eyebrows raised in obvious surprise, "Severus; to what do I owe the pleasure on this marvellous morning?"

"The pleasure, headmaster," bit out Snape, "is owed to Longbottom here, and his sudden and vicious attack of Mr. Malfoy outside of my classroom."

Dumbledore did not react for a moment, then, his eyes met Neville's and Neville had to resist the sudden urge to squirm under his gaze. "Is this true, Mr. Longbottom?" He asked, his voice one of obvious concern.

"S-sort of, sir."

"How silly of me to ask such a vague question," noted Dumbledore, actually smiling thinly, "let us try again Mr. Longbottom. Did you, or did you not attack Mr. Malfoy outside of the Potions classroom this morning?"

"Y-yes sir." Said Neville, nodding.

Dumbledore looked not at all surprised. "Was it, as Professor Snape insinuated, an unprovoked attack, Mr. Longbottom?"

"No sir." Answered Neville, a lot more confidence finding its way into his voice.

Snape tutted. "He obviously lies, headmaster."

"That will be enough, Severus," admonished Dumbledore, "I will judge whether or not I believe Mr. Longbottom is telling the truth, unless of course, you think me incapable of doing so?"

"No," said Snape curtly, "Of course not."

"Very good," pronounced Dumbledore, "now, Mr. Longbottom, what, in your eyes, was the provocation for your assault of young Mr. Malfoy?"

Neville met his gaze head on. "He was insulting Harry about his family," spat Neville, "he said that his family was either all dead or that they despised him too much to take him for Christmas." He sneered in a way that his blonde rival would be proud of. "He also implied an insult towards my family at the same time."

"I see," said Dumbledore, finally breaking eye contact and Neville had the oddest feeling that Dumbledore had somehow seen more than he knew, "that is certainly a rather callus thing of Mr. Malfoy to do." Conceded Dumbledore. "You have come a long way, my boy," he continued, surprising Neville with the more personal greeting, "the shy, timid boy who entered Hogwarts several months ago would not have stood up for his friend the way you did." He commended. "Back then, though your heart was still very much in the right place, I fear you may have chosen to do what was easy instead of what was right-"

"Right?" Hissed Snape, clearly furious. "Dumbledore, he attacked the scion of an Ancient and Most Noble House! There could be charges pressed for this if the boy is not punished! Lucius would hardly take this lying down."

"For bravery, self improvement and strength of character the likes of which is rarely seen," continued Dumbledore as if Snape had not interrupted him, the twinkle that seemed to eternally dance behind the old man's eyes seeming to be on full blast now, "I award you fifty points for Gryffindor."

"But Dumbledore-"

"Unfortunately," spoke the headmaster, his voice rising to silence his professor, "I must also punish you, as your actions did break several school rules, and despite their moral backing, could land you in serious trouble if this happened anywhere else aside from Hogwarts." He looked at Snape. "Let us see, perhaps detention with Professor Snape on a day of his choosing each week until the Easter Holidays?"

"Yes sir." Said Neville, hardly daring to believe his luck as Snape looked downright murderous but he was too late, Dumbledore nodded, smiling thinly as he waved towards the door.

"Off you go then, Mr. Longbottom, you are excused from your morning classes."

Neville left quickly, not wanting to bare witness to the argument that he could already hear beginning in the room behind him.

* * *

**December 9th 1991.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Great Hall.**

**12:11 PM.**

The trio stared at Neville, all in varying degrees of shock and ecstasy over the turn of events. Harry's lasted only a minute though, as he began to wonder soon after.

'What is Dumbledore playing at?'

On the surface, it seemed as if the old man was being fair, and maybe even leaning towards their side in a show of good moral judgement, but despite himself, Harry could not help but distrust Dumbledore to at least a certain extent, and he found himself wondering what could have driven him to act the way he had.

"Thank Merlin we had him in the morning." Muttered Ron, gesturing to where Snape had entered the hall. Harry had never seen him look so murderous, his eyes glinted as they landed on Neville, carrying even more contempt for him than he had seen behind them thus far.

"Blimey Neville," Dean muttered, seeming to think the same thing as Harry himself as he spoke with a small smile, "I think Snape might have a new public enemy number one."

All four of them laughed, though Harry joined in with only a bit less gusto than the other three, his mind wandering in so many different places.

* * *

**December 23rd 1991.**

**Hogsmeade Station. **

**11:46 AM.**

Harry, Dean and Neville turned to their fourth friend as they prepared to board the train. Ron was staying at Hogwarts, unable to leave the castle as his parents and younger sister were visiting his older brother, Charlie in Romania, where he worked with dragons.

"I'm sorry mate," said Harry truthfully, "I wish you could come with us, but I doubt Augusta would let you come without meeting you first."

Ron shrugged, his smile seemed a bit forced, but he didn't honestly seem too upset by it. "Don't worry about it," he told them, "I'll be productive with the twins, we have Percy to torment the entire break." Dean laughed and Harry and Neville chuckled. "Well," said Ron, shaking hands briefly with each of them, "take care. I'll see you guys in the new year." They all smiled, waving one last time before taking their places in the compartment they had selected for themselves on the train.

"Poor bloke." Said Dean as they levitated their trunks into the overhead compartment.

"His company could be worse," put in Harry, "the twins seem a good laugh to me."

"Yeah," said Neville a bit darkly, "if they actually team up on Percy and they don't just decide to prank Ron instead."

"That would be unfortunate for Ron." Agreed Harry, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips as they felt the train begin to make its exit from the station. "Do either of you know if we'll ever be allowed to come here?" Asked Harry, gesturing to the village as they pulled out of the station.

"Third year, I think." Said Dean. "Ron said something about it once, or one of his brothers did or something." Harry nodded, that sounded fair.

"Exploding snap?" Offered Neville and they were off. Dean later joked that it was the longest time Harry had spent with his nose out of a book in months, which upon further reflection, Harry thought might actually have been true.

The time passed fairly quickly, and by the time they had arrived back in London, they were all nursing some minor burns or scorches.

"Don't suppose you know how to heal these?" Asked Dean, holding up his singed fingers.

Harry shot him an apologetic look. "Sorry mate, I have no idea." He said truthfully, having never actually looked into any sort of healing magic. Now that he thought about it, that seemed a huge oversight on his part.

"My gran could heal you if you came with us." Offered Neville, causing Dean to smile thankfully, but Harry could detect some worry behind the smile. Neville and Harry had both talked about Augusta and they had not sugar coated her nature.

Despite his obvious apprehension, Dean followed them to where Augusta was waiting. It was actually helpful that they had Dean, as Neville was of average height and Harry was shorter than him, while Dean could look over the heads of many third years, being the tallest in their year. They approached Augusta and caught her attention with a wave. She smiled, stepping forward and hugging both Neville and Harry quite tightly. Harry stiffened but Augusta did not relent. When she drew back she peered at their friend.

"Seeing as you are certainly not a Weasley, I will assume you are the Mr. Thomas that these two have spoken of in their letters?"

Dean shifted nervously. "Uh — yes ma'am."

Augusta nodded approvingly. "Well mannered," she complimented, "especially for a muggle-born." Dean looked a bit uncomfortable and Augusta seemed to realize what she had said. "I don't mean anything by it dear." She said. "I am no blood purist, I only mean that most muggle-borns are ignorant to our customs when first entering our world." Dean smiled, looking a bit relieved.

"Dean burnt his fingers pretty badly playing exploding snap," put in Neville, "could you heal them?"

"Of course," said Augusta with a sigh and a roll of her eyes, pulling her wand from her sleeve as Dean gingerly held out his hand. "Episkey." She muttered, tapping the wand against his hand and causing the burns to vanish.

"Thank you." Said Dean thankfully, looking back over as much of the crowd as he could.

"It is my pleasure, Mr. Thomas," said Augusta, repocketing her wand with a smile, "we'd best be off boys, I am sure your parents are waiting for you on the other side of the barrier, take care."

"Thanks again ma'am; see you Harry, Neville." And with a final wave he was off, making to go back to the muggle side of the barrier to meet up with his parents.

"He seems like a nice enough boy." Complimented Augusta approvingly. "I thought for sure the young Weasley would be here as well."

"His parents are in Romania." Explained Harry. "They're visiting one of his older brothers; apparently he works with dragons."

"I doubt there's much else for him to do in Romania." Scoffed Augusta as they made their way towards the floo connections. "After you, boys." She said and Harry stepped in first, wanting to get the worst over with as he spoke aloud and vanished in a flash of green flames. He stumbled badly on his way out of the fire but managed to stay upright, though he did send his trunk skidding across the floor. Luckily, the feather light charm and unbreakable charms made it so this was no issue. He still detested magical transport, but he had at least, unlike Neville a moment later, managed to stay on his feet, though he had managed far from the grace with which Augusta stepped out of the fire a moment after her grandson's arrival

"It is nearly time for dinner," announced Augusta, "Come, I want to hear all about your first semester." She smiled with a fondness that still took Harry a bit aback, but he smiled right back up at her and followed her and Neville into the dining room, where they discussed everything about the semester in vivid detail. She seemed particularly proud about the bit with the troll, though when Harry came to the Quidditch match her eyes darkened.

"I don't know what Dumbledore thinks he's doing by employing a former Death Eater." Spat Augusta.

"I don't think Snape tried to kill me," said Harry softly. He had decided that he wouldn't tell Augusta about Voldemort, but he had decided to at least tell her and Neville a half truth, if for no other reason than to see what she thought about Quirrell.

She shook her head. "Harry, it may be hard to believe, but Snape and your father really did seem to have a disdain for each other far beyond school ground rivalries if half of the stories Frank told are true. It would be just like the impression I got of him to hold a grudge for so long."

"Oh," said Harry, "Snape definitely does hate me, I'm not arguing with that part, but I'm pretty certain he was actually trying to make sure that I didn't fall out of the sky."

"No," said Neville, sounding confused, "Harry, we went over this, that was Quirrell."

"I don't think so," argued Harry, "I know you weren't there for the Halloween feast Neville, but I'm sure you've heard about it?" Neville nodded. "Well, what nobody likely told you was that on the way out, maybe a minute after he supposedly fainted, Quirrell had disappeared; he was nowhere to be seen." He let that sink in. "And you remember when he showed up beside Snape in the bathroom?" Neville nodded again. "Well, I saw Snape heading off in the direction of the third floor corridor cursing after Quirrell was already gone. Call me crazy, but when they showed up that day, Snape seemed particularly furious, and Quirrell even more nervous than normal." He decided to leave out the part about Snape being bitten by something with three heads, he felt as if this was enough information for the two to digest.

"So," said Augusta thoughtfully, "you believe that this Quirrell is snooping around the school and trying to kill you while Snape, a former Death Eater is trying to counter him?"

"Yes," said Harry, suddenly painfully aware of how ridiculous that sounded when put in that manner, "he's changed." Said Harry. "Quirrell I mean. All of the other students remember him as being a confident, upbeat muggle studies teacher before he took a one year hiatus. Now," he said, looking to Neville to back him up on his next point, "he's a stuttering mess of a professor who's taught us nothing useful in defense and seems afraid of his own shadow."

"That's true." Said Neville tentatively.

"So what," said Augusta, her eyes narrowing, "you believe it is an act?"

'I think Quirrell is dead and that HE is an act.' But Harry didn't say that.

"Yes." He said simply, causing Augusta to tap her bony fingers on her chin.

"I suppose it is possible." She conceded. "Though I fail to see why he would want to kill you. I still think Snape makes more sense as he actually has a legitimate motivation, if an admittedly petty and foolish one."

"Maybe," said Harry, though he was unconvinced.

"Enough about such things," said Augusta, "there is more to hear and more to do tonight after that."

"We have plans?" Asked Neville, sounding surprised.

"Us two do," said Augusta, turning to Harry, "you have been invited to the social event of the season, which happens to be a ball put on by a major pureblood family and if I am correct, you have no idea how to dance, do you?"

Harry's heart sank at the implications. He wouldn't like dancing, he was sure of that, there was far too much closeness for him to be interested in it. "Uh — no, I have no idea."

"We are going to fix that." Said Augusta. "You may join us to tune your own ability up if you like," she told Neville, "though I have faith in your ability on a dance floor, I taught you well after all."

"We're going too?" Asked Neville, sounding very surprised now.

"Yes," said Augusta, "we have been invited a couple of times before, but I have seen no reason to go until now."

"Why now?" Asked Harry, not missing the implications of her statement.

"They seem to be quite interested in my second grandson," she said, causing an odd warmth to spread outwards from Harry's chest at the phrase as he felt his face flush with emotion, "I think I have a right to be interested as to why."

* * *

**December 25th 1991.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**7:06 AM.**

Harry's dreams were particularly unpleasant that night, with many of them spent in the air on his Nimbus before he was blasted out of the sky by a blast of green light. Or, better still, being sentenced to detention by Snape, who had an oddly malicious gleam in his eyes as he told him to report to Quirrell's classroom that night. When he did so, it wasn't Quirrell who awaited him, but a faceless figure who Harry knew without features. This dream too ended in a flash of green light, though it was accompanied by high, cold laughter and the first two words Harry had ever known,

"Avada Kedavra."

Those were the last two words he heard before he was shook awake by a rather eager, yet definitely concerned looking Neville.

"Harry," he said, his eagerness fading into worry as he saw the beads of sweat on his best friend's face, "are you ok?"

"Fine," lied Harry a bit groggily, checking the time, "what's happened? Is somebody dead? I can't imagine why you're up before me?"

Neville shoved him playfully. "Oi, it's Christmas!" He said, causing Harry to sit up as the same realization crashed over him along with another.

'This is the first time I've ever actually been excited for Christmas.'

"I'll be down in a minute," said Harry, scrambling for the first acceptable articles of clothing he came across, Neville beamed at his sudden change of pace and left the room, no doubt making his way down to the sitting room where the massive, elaborately decorated Christmas tree stood.

Harry joined him a few minutes later, Augusta too was there. She was sitting in her favourite armchair, looking rather out of character in a comfortable looking Christmas themed jumper as well as her customary vulture topped hat.

"Merry Christmas Harry!" She said brightly upon seeing him, causing him to smile back at her.

'She's the first person to ever tell me that.' thought Harry.

"Merry Christmas Augusta, Neville."

"Merry Christmas mate!" Said Neville, looking more excited than Harry had ever seen him as he peered intently at the heap of presents under the tree.

"Go on then," said Augusta with a smile, "open them."

Harry and Neville both surged forwards, quickly separating the presents into two piles, Harry also produced a package from under the tree and handed it to Augusta, he had instructed the elves to put it there for him.

Augusta opened hers first, her eyes going wide as she pulled the picture frame from its packaging. It was of Harry and Neville, both sitting side by side on one of the couches in front of the Gryffindor fire as they laughed at a joke told by Ron, though the red-head himself was absent from the picture, as just Harry and Neville were displayed.

"I wasn't sure what to get you," stated Harry carefully but Augusta waved his concern away, and Harry thought her eyes looked rather watery.

"It is perfect Harry." She said sincerely. "I would hug you, but I would doubtlessly trip and break my neck on one of the boxes around you. Go on, open yours."

'I'll have to thank Dean for being a brilliant artist.'

Harry smiled and started with the smaller boxes. Seamus had sent him a package of chocolate frogs and Hermione Granger had done the same. Harry was thankful Augusta had advised him to get something for all of his housemates, as he would certainly have forgotten about Granger at least. Lavender Brown had sent Harry a broom servicing kit, something that Harry thought oddly extravagant seeing as they didn't even know each other.

"I think she fancies you." Said Neville with a smile, making Harry recoil. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with Lavender, but Harry's eleven year old body was certainly not at the point where anything of the sort was even remotely appealing to him.

"She must," agreed Augusta, inspecting the kit from her vantage point above them on the chair, "they are not too pricey, but they are not cheap either."

Parvati too had bought Harry a gift, though she had gone with a book, one that caught his attention almost at once as the title contained a term he had never heard before.

_The Incredible Apauruseya of Ancient India and Beyond. _

"What is an Apauruseya?" Asked Neville, who had been between opening packages and had read the title of the book over Harry's shoulder.

"No idea," he said, looking to Augusta but she too shrugged.

"I am as clueless as the two of you." She said. "Perhaps it is an Indian term that translates to something I would know of."

Harry shrugged, knowing that he would know soon enough as he put the book off to the side and reached for his next few packages. Katy Bell had bought him a broom compass. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet had both purchased him a variety of sweets, Oliver Wood had sent him a hefty book full of seeker tactics that Harry actually thought he would enjoy quite a bit, and the twins had sent him a box of pranking goods and a note saying they were disappointed in him, though the last line stood out.

_Your father was a magnificent prankster if Filch's records are anything to go off of. It is a gift, and we have been disgusted to see you waste it; see that you don't continue to do so. _

_Merry Christmas, _

_Gred and Forge._

Harry likely would have laughed at their signatures if he didn't feel like he had just been punched in the gut. He resolved to look into that as he pocketed the note and moved on to the packages from his main friends and "family."

To his surprise, the first package he opened was from somebody whom he hadn't expected to send him anything at all — Ron's mother. She had sent him a large box of home made sweets that all looked quite delicious and a hand knitted sweater that looked marvellously comfortable. It was of a deep red, the same colour as that of their house and was emblazoned with a golden snitch.

"Blimey," he heard Neville say from beside him, holding up a similar looking sweater, though his was emblazoned instead by a roaring lion. "I didn't expect anything from Ron's mum."

"Neither did I," admitted Harry, "we'll have to send her something in thanks." He decided, quickly moving onto his next packages.

Dean had sent him a football sweater from his favourite team, something that made Harry laugh softly. He had also sent him a package of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. Ron had sent him a brand new wizard chess set, something that Harry was actually quite happy with. He was the only one who could compete with Ron in chess, usually managing to keep the games quite close though he had yet to beat him; Ron genuinely seemed to be a prodigy at the game.

Finally Harry had only three packages left and he frowned. He only expected two more.

"Cheers Harry!" Said Neville from beside him, holding up the dragon hide gloves and wand holster Harry had purchased for him. If Neville wanted to take defense as seriously as it seemed, the holster would be useful, and if he was going to go play around with dangerous plants as much as he had been already, he should have damn good protection.

"No problem." Said Harry as he opened Neville's gift to find a large book titled _Advanced Magical Theory: An Exploration Into The Metaphysical. _The book seemed ancient, and though the dragon hide hadn't been cheap, Harry guessed that Neville had likely outspent him. He was also quite amused when he pulled the same high quality wand holster that he had purchased Neville from the same box that had contained the book. He raised it, showing it to the other boy as he smiled openly at him."Thank you." He told him, gesturing for the book "This looks way beyond my level right now, but I bet it'll be dead useful and interesting one day when I'm ready."

"It won't be long," said Neville with a smile, "not at the rate you're moving."

Harry smiled back at him, reaching for Augusta's present. It was a tiny package, something that made Harry only more curious to know what was inside. When he opened it he gasped. A heavy, golden locket was inside and when he lifted it, Harry noticed that it was adorned by his family crest, a Gryphon with crossed wand and sword in its mouth. "Open it." Harry heard Augusta say from behind him and gently he did so, having to fight back the wave of emotion that crashed into him as he saw his mother and father smiling up at him. It was a picture he recognized from the scrapbook that Neville had gifted him, but it was nice to have it so close.

"Thank you," Harry told Augusta heavily, making his way over and hugging her tentatively.

"Anytime Harry." She said, causing him to smile at her with eyes that were just a bit watery.

"You have one more," reminded Neville, who had seemingly just finished unwrapping his last. "Go on then!" He said eagerly.

Harry made his way over to the final package, one he had genuinely no idea who it was from. When he opened the package, the only things to fall out were a light, shimmering bit of silver fabric that he would quickly learn to be a near priceless invisibility cloak and a note, written in a tall, loopy handwriting that Harry recognized at once, though he had seen it only once before.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died._

_It is time it was returned to you._

_Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

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**Authors Endnote: **

**Before anyone says anything, yes, I am well aware that the Longbottoms go and visit Frank and Alice on Christmas and that will be happening, though I will speak of it only in summary. **

**I debated including the Greengrass's party in this chapter, but I wanted to end it here since there actually won't be any major action scenes during the party unlike the few I have written in other stories, and that scene alone is 6k words. That's not to say it won't be important because it definitely will be, just not in that way. At any rate, I decided against it as I figured this was long enough, and though there is a nice cliffhanger I could have used from the Greengrass party, I always like ending chapters with this scene.**

**Please read and review. **

**PS: The next chapter will release next Monday, December 23rd 2019.**


	11. TSR Ch 11: Mirrors and Near Misses

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Authors Note:**

**I don't know why I keep writing these damn social events. They are always the hardest chapters to write. "Sigh" oh well — onwards!**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

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**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal **

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 11: Meetings, Mirrors and Near Misses. **

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**December 31st 1991.**

**Longbottom Manor. **

**7:47 PM.**

Harry emerged from the en-suite better dressed than he ever had been before. He wore a set of slick black dress robes with a bright green trim; a colour that, according to Augusta, brought out his eyes, which she viewed as his most appealing feature. Unfortunately for Harry, the upgrade in outfit had done nothing for his confidence. He had definitely become a bit more comfortable socially in the last number of months, but it was still an aspect of his life that he remained anxious over. Now, he was walking head long into the most socially heavy, as well as socially important situation he had ever walked into and his nerves were quite fried. It didn't help that many attending the party would likely be rich pureblood families who had once supported Voldemort, be it directly or indirectly. Harry was quite unsure how they would react to having The-Boy-Who-Lived at their social event.

Augusta had reassured him. "_You were invited by the Greengrass's." _She had reminded him. "_No one is stupid enough to risk their ire by doing something to you." _

Harry conceded that this was a good point and that she was probably right. That name carried more weight than any in the magical world except maybe Malfoy, and even then they were on the same field, Despite that though, Harry still felt rather uncomfortable walking into a social setting where he would inevitably be surrounded by snakes looking to strike, both literally and metaphorically.

He closed his eyes and tried to forget about the impending party, trying to focus on the break he had enjoyed with Neville and Augusta thus far.

Christmas had been one of the best days of his life, not only for the gifts, but for the mere idea that finally, after ten years of waiting, Harry actually had people who valued him enough to purchase him those gifts. Even seeing Frank and Alice had its upsides, although the sight did disturb Harry more than he cared to admit and he hated seeing Neville look so depressed. In spite of that though, it, more than anything so far in his life had lit a fire under him, especially when conjoined with the fact that he knew Voldemort was not far away. He had spent every passing moment possible studying and practicing since that day, and though he had participated in board games and some travelling with Neville and Augusta, he had for the most part stayed locked up in his room with his soul mission in mind.

He had read up on a few other spells he thought may be useful like the Incarcerous spell, which conjured ropes to bind an opponent, or the Bludgeoning curse, one he had spent a great deal of time on and one he was quite sure he had mastered. He had also made great progress on his shield charm and though he thought there may be some small room for improvement, he was quite certain that he had, at least for the most part, mastered it as well.

Harry was snapped out of his musings when he heard a soft knock on the door. "Come in." He called, and the door opened to reveal Augusta, who was dressed in simple yet elegant dress robes of a deep black.

"Come," she told him, prompting him to walk out of the room with her, "there's no need to be nervous." She reminded him. "You just stay on your guard as always but remember what I said." He nodded, subconsciously padding the pocket of his robes where his new invisibility cloak was stowed.

He had experimented with the cloak quite a bit in recent days when he wasn't studying, though that wasn't saying much as he hadn't given himself much time. He had deduced that it gave him complete invisibility, and Augusta had been rather surprised when he had managed to sneak into Neville's room and jump scare him in the middle of the night. Apparently there was a ward in place on all the rooms to prevent unwanted visitors to enter without alerting the occupant but it just hadn't triggered. Since then, Harry had made a point of keeping the cloak on his person no matter where he went and tonight, a night where he felt increasingly nervous every step closer to the floo he stepped, he would make sure that he had a firm grasp on his ever present plan B.

"You first Neville." Instructed Augusta, causing Neville to nod before stepping forward and depositing his powder into the flames before disappearing in a flash of green fire. "I will go next." Augusta told him. "They clearly are anticipating your arrival quite a bit as you received the invitation a full week before the rest of us." She smiled. "It is only proper to keep them waiting."

Harry shook his head at the ridiculousness of the political games that went on amongst old pureblood families as Augusta too disappeared. Taking what she had said to heart, Harry waited a full two minutes after she vanished to toss his own powder into the fireplace before stepping in himself and pronouncing clearly, "Greengrass Manor." Before he too was consumed in green flame and suddenly the world was spinning past him at an alarming rate. He closed his eyes, hoping it would help with the disorientation and a moment later, felt his feet slam hard into the ground. He staggered forwards a few steps but managed to turn the momentum into a few confident strides forward until he was standing beside Neville, who was watching Augusta talking pleasantly but formally with two people whom Harry had never seen before; a man and a woman.

They were both quite tall, with the woman standing several inches taller than Augusta, who herself Harry had viewed as being tall for a woman and the man was another few inches taller than her. The man wore deep black dress robes not too dissimilar from Augusta's. He had an athletic build with sharp aristocratic features and short black hair. His eyes were dark brown, almost black, though they seemed nowhere near as cold as those of his Potions master. The woman was slim, though well defined in all the right places to catch a man's attention. She wore a deep blue dress trimmed in silver, and her platinum blonde hair flowed almost rhythmically down her back to almost her waste. This revealed soft, almost angelic looking features and the most enchanting eyes Harry had ever seen. They were a very pale, almost ice blue but seemed to be flecked by streaks of silver that seemed to stand out almost vividly against the blue irises.

Harry snapped his eyes away quickly, worried he would be thought of as staring when the woman turned and her eyes found him. A small smile graced her lips as she gently placed a hand on the arm of the man who must be her husband. He too turned and his eyes found Harry. He nodded, said something to Augusta and stepped forward, Harry felt his heart rate increase but he schooled his features to not show his nervousness.

"Heir Potter," the man greeted in a strong, clear voice, "it is a pleasure to have you in my home as well as to meet you at last. I am Cyrus Greengrass, Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Greengrass."

Harry took the man's offered hand and they both shook firmly. "It is an honour to meet you sir," said Harry smoothly, his lessons with Augusta from all those months ago and the revision over the last few days kicking in, "thank you to you and your family for the invitation and your hospitality." The man smiled and led Harry over towards the woman.

"The honour is ours Mr. Potter, I assure you." He turned to the woman. "This is my wife, and the lady of the house, Celia Greengrass." Celia smiled and offered her hand. Harry took it, kissing the knuckle the same way he had done her daughter's all those weeks ago.

"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am." Said Harry.

"As it is you, Mr. Potter." She said in a soft, smooth voice.

Cyrus took the opportunity as a segway a second later. "Speaking of," he said, gesturing and causing two more people to step forward. One of them Harry knew already. She was tall for their age, like her mother he supposed, a couple of inches taller than him and maybe an inch or so taller than Neville and had the same platinum blonde hair and enchanting eyes as her mother. Her facial features too were quite similar, though there was a bit of her father in the cheekbones and jaw. The other was smaller and quite obviously younger than Harry, Neville and Daphne. She had light brown hair, just a shade too dark to be considered blonde and the same enchanting eyes, though her facial features, though still soft were more of a mixture of her mother's and father's. "These are my daughters," said Cyrus proudly, "Daphne, who you have of course met, and my youngest, Astoria, who will not start Hogwarts until the year after next." Harry stepped forward, only bowing low to Daphne as they had already met, but formally greeting her younger sister, something that made the girl blush.

Harry looked up and noticed that the room was far more full now. "Well," said Cyrus loudly, "if you all would like to take seats in the ball room you are more than welcome, I must wait here for more guests to arrive." He glanced towards Daphne. "Daphne dear, would you please make sure that Mr. Potter finds a seat at our table?"

"Of course, father," said Daphne, turning to a rather surprised looking Harry who saved it by offering his arm in the correct fashion, prompting Daphne to slip hers through his and begin to lead him through the entrance hall towards a large, elaborate set of doors that he figured must lead into the ballroom.

Harry found himself tongue tied. He didn't enjoy the awkward silence, but this girl had been quite anti social during the school year, so he didn't want to draw her ire by starting an unwanted conversation.

She surprised him a few moments later though when she initiated the conversation herself. "I don't bite you know." She said, as if reading his thoughts.

"Sorry," he said quickly, "I was just thinking."

Her lips twitched. "What about?"

"Your family." He answered honestly. "You look a lot like your mother by the way."

She just shook her head, looking amused. "I get that a lot," she said, "from what I am told, you look like your father."

"Yeah," said Harry, "I've been told too, he wore glasses though."

"A lot of us were surprised when you didn't." She said, causing him to raise his eyebrows.

"Why?" He asked, confused.

"In all of the books, you're shown with glasses." She explained. "I guess it was stupid of us to believe fiction novels, but it's just always sort of how we saw you."

"What books?" He asked. "The only books I've seen to do with me involve Voldemort or the dark arts." He said Voldemort's name quietly as to not draw the attention of the crowd behind him but to his surprise, Daphne didn't have much of a reaction at all beyond surprise. Then, she laughed softly.

"Of course you would say The Dark Lord's name, wouldn't you?" She asked, sounding a mixture of exasperated and amused.

"Yes," said Harry, "I've never seen the point in avoiding it. It's a name, it's hardly going to cause him to appear from nowhere and start killing everybody, is it?"

"No," admitted Daphne, "I suppose it isn't. It's just odd to hear somebody say it."

"Have you never heard it spoken before?"

"Of course I have," she said almost arrogantly, "how would I know it if I had not heard it?"

"Fair point," admitted Harry, "but I meant aside from that."

"Yes," she answered, "I have heard it spoken several times, though it's still very rare to hear."

"I don't suppose you know why everybody is terrified of his name?" He asked her as they neared the doors. "I mean — nobody is afraid to say Grindelwald's name, and by the sounds of it, he was just as bad as Voldemort."

"Maybe, but Grindelwald never attacked England," She pointed out, "so we wouldn't be afraid of his name, would we? Anyways, if I remember correctly there was a rumour sometime during the last war that The Dark Lord had placed a curse on his name in order to strike down those who opposed him." She shook her head. "I don't know if there is any truth to it; I have never asked and I have no idea if something like that is even possible."

"It probably is," mused Harry, his mind immediately jumping to the question, he stopped a moment later, realizing that it was irrelevant and way above his current level of knowledge anyways. "What are these books you mentioned though?" He asked, getting back to his original question.

"You don't know?" She asked, an oddly mischievous smile crossing her lips.

"Clearly not," answered Harry with a roll of his eyes, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

"The Gryffindor golden boy can be mildly sarcastic." She noted. "I'm impressed, Potter, maybe you were missorted." He winced almost imperceptibly, remembering the words of the hat.

"_You could be great, and Slytherin would help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that." _

"The Gryffindor what?" He asked, before shaking his head. "Never mind, stop distracting me."

She chuckled again as they walked into the hall and Harry's jaw nearly hit the floor at the sheer scale and beauty of the place. "They wrote all kinds of fiction books about you." She said, that same mischievous smile back on her face. "Every child in our world has read at least one, most of the girls at Hogwarts grew up crushing on you." He was blushing fiercely now and she knew it, her smile only widening. "You should ask Astoria, I'm sure she could lend you a couple to read for yourself."

"I'll pass," he said, trying to wipe the blush off of his face.

Daphne laughed. "What's the matter? You don't like the image of little girls squealing in bed as their parents read them the noble adventures of The-Boy-Who-Lived?" Harry felt as if he could die of the blush on his face but he bit back at Daphne, trying to divert the conversation off of himself.

"It depends if you were one of them, I suppose." He said, trying to emulate her smirk.

To his dismay, hers only widened. "Crushing on me Potter?" She asked. "Hoping I was one of them? Hoping you might have a shot?" He was blushing worse than ever now and she giggled. "Sorry to disappoint you, but you were never really my type. I like taller, I was never a fan of glasses and nobility stops becoming interesting when it borders on stupidity." Harry laughed at her analysis, even if the height comment hit closer to home than he would have liked to admit.

They reached the table at the front of the room, it was the most elaborately decorated and Harry knew without being told that it was the one her father had referred to. Daphne made to sit in the chair nearest the one that sat at the head of the table, but Harry quickly stepped past her, pulling out her chair as he had been taught. She smiled genuinely for a moment before the mischievous glint returned to it. "Thank you Potter, I do like manners, if you keep this up, maybe you'll have a chance after all." He too blushed again and took a seat beside her, not wanting to sit across from her and have to look at that smile any longer than he had to. She reached over and padded his head, something that made him flinch away from her quickly. "You're too easy." She commented with some satisfaction.

"Is this all you do in Slytherin?" He asked, actually vaguely curious. "Play mind games with one another until one of you won't look at the other?"

"Half right," she acknowledged, "we pretty much do play mind games the entire time; though my goal usually isn't to get a boy to blush." Harry had to resist the urge to do so again.

"Daphne!" A voice called, causing her to look up to see the strawberry blonde whom Harry had seen around her during all of their Potions lessons. The girl was wearing a simple white dress. Daphne was on her feet in an instant as the two embraced.

"Honestly, Tracey," she said with some exasperation, "it has barely been a week since we have seen each other, you make it seem like it has been months."

"It feels like it has!" Said the other girl enthusiastically. "Who were you sitting with, is he-" and then she saw him and her mouth fell open as she turned back to glare at Daphne. "You didn't tell me that your family invited Harry Potter!"

"It must have slipped my mind." Said Daphne with a teasing smile that made it all the more evident that it definitely hadn't. She looked at Harry, seeming to realize he was a bit lost. "Harry Potter, this is Tracey Davis, Tracey, this is Harry Potter, Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter."

Harry stood, finding himself to be a bit surprised when Tracey offered her hand to shake instead of a more formal greeting. He took it, though his face must have showed some surprise. "What?" Asked Tracey. "Did you think that everybody in Slytherin came from an Ancient and Most Noble House?"

"No," he answered honestly, "but I figured most of them probably pretended they did, and most purebloods seem to prefer being formal even when they don't have to be."

She flushed and Harry knew instantly that she was not a pureblood at all, the surprise must have showed on his face again because she quickly looked around before asking in a whisper. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes," said Harry bluntly, "but I don't care about any of that, I'm a half blood myself."

"You caring is hardly the point," said Daphne a bit stiffly, "you can't slip up like that Tracey. Potter's right; if you're going to be a pureblood, you have to act like one."

And then it clicked into place for Harry. "You're pretending to be a pureblood to save yourself from discrimination in Slytherin, aren't you?"

Tracey's mouth fell open. "Oh my god!" She said under her breath. "You really are a genius, aren't you?"

Harry shrugged. "You didn't really make it that difficult to figure out. Besides," he added when he saw her look nervous, "if Greengrass backs you, I doubt anybody would be politically stupid enough to question your story."

"You would be surprised," said Daphne with some distaste, "it seems that you would make a better Slytherin than half of the house."

"Wouldn't that be something," mused Tracey with a smirk, "Harry Potter; the symbol of the light and the golden boy of Gryffindor wearing green and silver!"

"I think Malfoy would have had more than one visit to the hospital wing." Commented Harry, causing Tracey to hide a snort behind her hand and Daphne to look exasperated.

"You do realize that the two of you act like children, don't you?"

"You do realize that we ARE children, don't you?" Countered Harry, feeling quite proud of himself for actually winning a round of their verbal chess game. "Besides," he said, "I don't care. He made it personal by going after my friends and my family."

"Your family?" Asked Daphne carefully. "Don't take this the wrong way, I mean no offence, but how could he go after your family given the circumstances?"

"Obviously not physically," admitted Harry, "one of the first things he told me was that if I hung around who I was hanging around with, I would go the same way my parents went." Tracey gasped and Daphne shook her head, murmuring something about idiots under her breath. "And then he made it his mission to make Neville's life hell." Said Harry a bit hotly.

"He's improved a lot," noted Daphne, "he is still useless with a cauldron, but he seems to be doing much better in every other class," she smiled, "and he bested Draco quite easily."

"You don't like him," noted Harry in reference to Malfoy.

Daphne shrugged. "Our beliefs differ and I disapprove of most of his methods."

'That's a very politically cautious answer.'

Their conversation was broken up by a girl plopping down across from Harry who Harry recognized to be Astoria. "Hello Harry Potter." She said brightly, her parents approaching behind them.

Harry's lips twitched at the contrast between Astoria and her older sister. "Hello Astoria Greengrass." He returned, causing her to blush and hide a giggle behind her hand.

She made to speak again, but before she could, her father took the head of the table and her mother took the seat between her father and Astoria; Tracey had taken the seat on Harry's right while Daphne was on his left. More people were approaching their table and one of them bustled his way over towards Harry at once. He was a short, portly man wearing brilliant emerald dress robes and a lime green bowler, something Harry thought a bit out of place for such an occasion.

"Harry Potter!" The man said jovially, extending his hand to Harry in an excited manner, shaking Harry's eagerly once he had reciprocated the gesture. "At last, at last! I have waited such a long time to meet you, my boy!"

"It is a pleasure to meet you too sir," said Harry, he was certain he had seen this man's picture before but couldn't for the life of him remember where, or who this man was.

"Where are my manners?" Asked the man to nobody in particular. "My apologies Harry. My name is Cornelius Fudge and I am the Minister Of Magic."

'Well damn.'

"It's a pleasure to meet you minister." Said Harry, a bit taken aback that such an influential figure would be so eager to meet him.

'I guess this Boy-Who-Lived thing really does have some meaning behind it, huh?'

"The pleasure is all mine dear boy!" Said Fudge. "We must talk later, I have been so eager to meet you!" And then he was back down the table to sit across from a woman who must have been his wife.

"You dealt with that pretty well," said Daphne as Harry retook his seat, acutely aware that her parents were also focused on him.

"What do you mean?" He asked her, genuinely curious.

"I think most people would have been a bit more rattled than that when first meeting the Minister of Magic."

Harry shrugged. "It took me a minute to realize where I had seen him before, and besides," he added when she looked surprised, "he didn't really give me a whole lot of time to act all surprised, did he?"

"You are a very unusual wizard, Mr. Potter." Said Cyrus with a slight smile. Harry almost asked him to call him Harry, but remembered that such a jump was not to be made unless you had either spent quite a bit of time with your counterpart or unless you could accurately say you were the political superior, something that Harry definitely couldn't.

"I suppose I might be a bit." He admitted with a small grin.

Cyrus merely smiled before making sure everybody was in the room and getting to his feet. He made a speech about the passing of time, the closing of one chapter and the opening of another and told everybody to enjoy the night, prompting food to appear on the tables much in the same way it did at Hogwarts as he took his seat.

Harry had to resist a look of surprise. He had always figured Dumbledore used some sort of magic to do that at the feast, but now he realized it had more likely been house elves reacting to a queue.

'So that's what that rubbish he said at the feast was about.'

"I've heard that your studies are going well, Harry." Said Mrs. Greengrass from across the table from Daphne, causing Harry to tune back into the conversation.

"Uh — yes ma'am, they've been going fairly well."

"Have you received your mid year report?" She asked him, to which he nodded.

"What did you get?" Asked Astoria, cutting forcefully into the conversation. "Daphne wanted to get first in the year, but kept whining because she said Harry Potter was going to beat her.

"Astoria!" Growled Daphne, causing her sister to smile innocently back at her.

"What did your sister get?" Quipped Harry with a smile.

"Mostly O's," said Daphne, "though I had an E- in Astronomy an E in History of Magic."

He turned to Astoria and mock whispered. "I beat her." Causing the younger girl to giggle.

"By how much?" Astoria whispered back.

"Enough." He replied.

"All O's I'm assuming?" Asked Tracey, unable to hide her curiosity.

"I had an E+ in Astronomy." He admitted. "I need to put more effort into that class." When he saw Daphne sigh he turned to her. "I'm sure you beat me in Potions though. I don't understand how you finish so far ahead of me and Granger."

"Probably because she's been brewing potions since she was like… five." Said Tracey, causing Harry to raise his eyebrows.

"Seven," corrected her mother gently, "we have been preparing Daphne to be competent enough to take over our import/export business when she's older incase she should want to. The business deals quite heavily with potions."

"Ah," said Harry with a nod, "yeah, I guess that would do it." He turned to Astoria. "Are you brewing too?" She nodded. "Do me a favour when you get to Hogwarts, will you?" Astoria nodded again, looking almost eager, if a bit nervous. "Beat every mark your sister gets in Potions for me, I can't stand the smug look on her face when she hands her potion into Snape." Cyrus and Celia laughed softly while Tracey and Astoria giggled and Daphne looked affronted.

"I do not have a smug look when I finish my potions!" She argued.

"Oh, you totally do Daph!" Said Tracey through giggles. "He's got you on this one."

"You're supposed to defend me, Tracey," she said dryly, "not agree with the Gryffindor."

"Us half bloods have to stick together." Said Harry, making sure it was quiet enough that only those directly around him heard. Tracey smiled at him as Astoria giggled again and Daphne sighed.

"Mother," she asked, "help me?"

"Why would I do such a thing?" Asked Celia with the same mischievous smile Daphne had worn earlier in the night. "Maybe you shouldn't look so smug when you finish a potion."

"Especially when you've basically been cheating!" Chirped Astoria cheerfully.

"So have you," reminded Daphne, "you're getting early lessons too."

"Yeah," bit back Astoria as she stuck out her tongue, "but I'm not going to look smug when I hand them in!"

"I've never heard her use that word before," commented Cyrus, "thank you for giving my daughter an English lesson, Mr. Potter."

He smiled. "My pleasure sir." He looked at Daphne. "So, the only reason I'm not first in the year in Potions is because you cheated?"

"It's not cheating!" Snapped Daphne. "Besides," she bit back, "Granger is better than you anyways, you wouldn't be first."

"To be fair," put in Tracey, seeming to relish in the opportunity to torment Daphne, "he might finish ahead of her if Snape didn't spend half the class tormenting him."

"So I'm not the only one who's noticed?" Harry asked dryly, causing Tracey to shake her head.

"He really does hate you." She admitted.

"What's this?" Asked Celia sharply.

"Our Potions Master seems to have a grudge against me for some reason." Said Harry. "I don't know what I did to him, the first time I looked at him, I could just tell he didn't like me."

"And then he asked you those questions in class," said Tracey, "the first one — I had no idea."

"How did you get that right?" Asked Daphne. "Well, I guess you only got it half right, but that's a NEWT potion he asked about?"

"I didn't," he admitted, "Neville's a Herbology genius and knew the plants' properties well enough to mouth to me that they would form a sleeping potion of some sort."

"What did he ask you?" Asked Celia.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "What would you get if you added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"What?" Her mother asked sharply. "Why on earth would he be asking about the first step of the Draught of Living Death to a class of first years?"

"Because he really does hate Potter," said Daphne, "it's odd."

"Apparently he disliked my father." Put in Harry.

"That is an understatement." Put in Cyrus with a reminiscent look. "I was a few years above the pair of them and was a prefect for their second, third and fourth years." He shook his head. "I had to break them up multiple times, and the curses they were throwing around were more than a little questionable; let alone for third years."

"It seems a bit much though, for him to hate James Potter's son on principle." Said Celia. "Are you sure none of you are exaggerating?"

"Mum," said Daphne exasperatedly, "he asked him about THE DRAUGHT OF LIVING DEATH on our FIRST DAY! How much more proof do you need?"

"That is harsh." She admitted, but conversation slowed after that due to the fact that by now, they had all loaded their plates and were beginning to eat.

They ate mostly in silence before finally, the desserts appeared and by the time Harry had finished with those, he was unsure if he had ever been so full in all of his life.

'I think the Hogwarts house elves have met their match.'

At that moment Cyrus stood, and the room fell quiet. "Tonight," he said in his loud clear voice, "we welcome somebody back to our world who should have been here all along." The room fell quiet. "Whatever your political beliefs, what Harry Potter did for our world ten and a bit years ago will never be forgotten, and I would like to have a toast in honour of that feat, and in honour of his fallen parents." Everybody lifted their goblets and Harry kept his head down for he was blushing again. "To the Potters!" Said Cyrus, and the room repeated. "Now, if he is willing, I would like for Mr. Potter to open the ball itself, I would offer him my daughter and heiress as partner."

Harry took a deep breath as he stood. He had practiced quite a lot with Augusta since his return to Longbottom Manor and she had told him proudly that he was more than adequate. Despite his ability though, it was not something he enjoyed doing. He disliked closeness, so dancing was far from his favourite activity. Realizing it would be terribly rude to decline though, he did stand, offering Daphne his arm as he led her into the middle of the hall where he turned, placing one hand on her hip as she gently took his other as the music began to play.

"It's your lucky day." Said Daphne quietly with a smile, causing Harry to smile back despite himself. He was a competent dancer, something he proved during their dance but she was excellent. It was clear that she had been practicing for many years, and in many ways she carried him through the dance. About half way through, others took to the dance floor, causing Harry to relax a bit. The closeness still bothered him and made him a bit tense, but he found it far easier to move now that he knew the eyes of the room were no longer upon him.

When their dance had concluded they made their way towards the beverages table but were ambushed by a Madam Bones, who was apparently the Head of The Magical Law Enforcement Office in The Ministry.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter." She said as Harry greeted her formally.

"As it is you, madam. I imagine you are quite busy, so I thank you for taking the time out of your day to meet me."

She waved him off. "I know Augusta rather well," she said, her face darkening a bit, "I was an auror alongside her son and daughter-in-law. Finer aurors I did not know, and we have kept in touch over the years." She nodded respectfully to him. "She speaks quite highly of you. I dare say there are few who can boast about that." He smiled at her.

"Thank you madam." He said as he inclined his head and turned to Daphne. "Madam Bones, meet Daphne Greengrass, heiress of The Ancient and Most Noble House of Greengrass."

They spoke for several minutes about mostly mundane things before Madam Bones was forced to excuse herself, having been gestured over by somebody who she told him was rather influential in the Swedish ministry.

Unfortunately, her approach had prompted countless others. It was over an hour and a half later that he and Daphne finally got their beverages.

"You don't have to stay with me," said Harry, feeling guilty, "even if your father said you had to, I don't mind."

"He didn't," she dismissed, smiling at the look of surprise on Harry's face, "believe it or not Potter," she said with a soft smile, "you're not all that bad. Besides," she said, "for an aspiring head of an Ancient and Most Noble House, let alone a Founding Twelve family, it's rather useful to make connections and I find that I've met all kinds of interesting people just by standing around with you — people you have been polite enough to introduce to me even."

"So you're using me." Said Harry with a smile. "How Slytherin of you, Ms. Greengrass."

"And you're letting me use you because you're hoping I'll change my tune and tell you I squealed over you as a little girl." She said, smiling at the flush returning to his face. "How idiotic of you." She smirked again. "Don't get too comfortable with your break," she said, "I see my sister coming and I would bet you ten galleons she's coming to accost you for a dance — or ten."

Harry stiffened for a second at the idea of more dancing but relaxed a heart beat later. It hadn't been all that bad at all, it was just the idea that bothered him. Daphne seemed to notice his reaction and misinterpret it.

"I can get her to leave you alone if she's bothering you."

"No," said Harry, "it's fine. I like your sister," he said with a smirk, "the idiot Gryffindor needs some help to outwit the all mighty Slytherin after all."

"You deserve each other," said Daphne with a mock smile, shoving him playfully towards Astoria, who smiled rather nervously before asking Harry to dance with her. He accepted graciously, making a comment about how he wished her father had offered her instead of Daphne, which made her giggle and made Daphne roll her eyes.

He danced for a while with Astoria before slipping off to find Neville. This proved fruitless as he couldn't get more than ten feet before being stopped by someone or another. He had spent nearly forty five minutes talking with Fudge, spending most of that time avoiding rather invasive questions, though Fudge had seemed to have liked him.

"Mr. Potter," said a cool voice from behind him as he finally thought he had made it to the refreshments. He turned, and for a second he thought it was Celia but upon a closer look it quite obviously was not. This woman was tall as well, though she was a couple of inches shorter than Daphne's mother and was wearing a white dress that caught the light in all kinds of eye catching ways as well as far more jewelry than Mrs. Greengrass. She too had platinum blonde hair that fell down her back, and she too had blue eyes, though hers were far darker than Celia's.

"Madam," Harry greeted politely, not quite sure who she was but having an odd feeling about her.

"You don't know who I am?" She asked, sounding more curious than offended.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, but before he could continue she cut him off.

"No," she said, "you are not. There is no need to lie to me, Mr. Potter, I understand the exhaustive efforts that go into networking; you don't have to apologize for being frustrated at seeing yet another face. I will try not to take too much of your time."

"That would be appreciated." He said honestly, taken a bit aback by her candidness.

"My name is Narcissa Malfoy," she said, her voice one of perfect neutrality, "if you have not connected the name already, I was a daughter of house Black who married into the Malfoy family and sired one son."

"Draco." Guessed Harry, marvelling at how he managed to keep his voice neutral.

"Indeed," she said coolly, "you may not know this, Mr. Potter, but we are family, not too far removed either."

"I know," he responded, "my grandmother was Dorea Black."

She nodded. "You have at least educated yourself in the few months you have spent in our world, perhaps Draco has underestimated you." Her features became more set. "That brings me to why I am here," suddenly, Harry realized that nobody else was approaching them, and he knew then that Narcissa must have casted some kind of privacy ward around them, something that he didn't think boded well for him. "My son tells me that there have been some rather intense incidents between yourself, himself, and some of your friends."

"None that I have instigated." Harry said honestly.

"That may be true," conceded Narcissa, "but I think you will find that I do not care who started it one way or the other." Her eyes became a bit colder now. "There is nothing in this world I value more than my son, Mr. Potter, and as family, I offer you this one warning." She stepped closer to him and he made to back up, but he found her cool hand resting on the back of his neck, preventing him from backing up as. A second later she took his chin in her cool hand and tilted it up, releasing the back of his neck as she did so. She leaned down towards him, tilting his chin up to look at her as she did so. His hand twitched towards his wand but he knew he would never beat a fully qualified witch in a fair fight. "If my son ends up in the hospital wing again for injuries suffered at the hands of you or any of your lap dogs, Albus Dumbledore may not punish his golden boy, but I will." She released him then, waving her hand and dispelling whatever privacy ward was around them. That surprised Harry, wandless magic was extremely rare, the only person he had ever seen do it was Dumbledore. He hadn't expected Narcissa Malfoy to be capable of it, but if nothing else, it let him know that she was not to be taken lightly.

* * *

**January 5th 1992.**

**Hogsmeade Station.**

**6:24 PM.**

Harry wrapped his cloak as tightly around himself as he could as he, Dean and Neville stepped off of the train and into the bitter cold of the Scottish winter. Harry hadn't found it warm by any stretch in England, but the cold there had been a far cry from the Scottish countryside. As the three of them got into the carriage together, Harry's mind wandered to the final days of the break, and more particularly, the Greengrass's party and its aftermath.

He had told Augusta about the warning Narcissa Malfoy had given him and she had pretty much waved it off, saying that Narcissa was little more than Lucius's trophy wife and that the warning had likely come from him. She viewed Lucius Malfoy to be barely competent in terms of anything that wasn't political, so she had told Harry he had little to worry about. Harry didn't agree; the warning had felt personal, and he had watched her use wandless magic quite casually, something that, though he wasn't sure quite how rare it was, he knew it was rare.

The positive of this was that it had given him even more motivation to study and learn, something he hadn't thought possible. He had mastered the Incarcerous spell too now, and was eagerly awaiting the return to Hogwarts, where he planned to go somewhere he had never gone, somewhere he thought could give him a load of aid in a potential confrontation with Voldemort — the restricted section. Normally, the section required a signed note from a teacher, but Harry, under his invisibility cloak of course, knew that he could easily slip in undetected and take whatever he pleased.

He spent so much time pondering all of the things that the restricted section could offer him that he hardly noticed the carriage slow and stop until Neville and Dean were already moving and Harry had little choice but to follow them. The queue to get into the castle was not one that was easy to slip through, and Harry found himself quite tempted to just disappear under his cloak and sneak his way to the front, but he didn't want to be seen with the cloak; it was far more useful to him if nobody knew about it.

'Well, nobody aside from Neville anyway.'

As they entered the great hall for dinner, they saw the Gryffindor table occupied by several heads of red hair. One of them, the one that clearly belonged to Ron, waved them over eagerly. "Oi!" Ron told Harry, clasping his hand firmly. "Thanks for the cannons jersey, I always wanted an authentic one!"

"Don't mention it," said Harry with a smile, "how was your holiday?"

"Bit dull if I'm honest." Said Ron with a shrug. "It was fun pranking Percy for a bit, but it became a lot less fun when he started being hard to get so the twins started in on me." Neville shot an, "I told you so" look at Dean and himself who both suppressed various degrees of reactions. "What about you lot?" Asked Ron.

"It was fine," said Dean, "it was good to see my folks again, but I missed you lot and this place."

"Mine was great!" Said Harry. "Got loads for Christmas and learned a lot while I was gone-"

"I would hope so," put in Neville with a roll of his eyes, "he barely came out of his room the whole time."

"So now you're going to be even further ahead?" Asked Ron with a shake of the head. "Worse than Granger, I'm telling you." He said, causing Neville and Dean to crack up.

"How'd you do on your mid year report?" Dean asked Ron, causing Ron to brighten.

"I think I did alright," he said, "An E+' in Charms, E's in Defense in Transfiguration; A's in the rest, but History was a near miss, almost failed that one."

"Good one!" Said Dean, turning to Harry with a disgusted look. "I won't even bother asking you," he said turning to Neville.

"Oh — uh — E's in Charms, Astronomy and Transfiguration, E+ in Defense, and-and," he sounded as if he couldn't believe what he was going to say. "An O in Herbology."

Harry rolled his eyes and clasped Neville on the shoulder. "How dare you sound surprised?" Asked Harry with a smirk. "We all knew you'd top that list." He turned to Dean. "What about you?"

"E's in everything but Transfiguration, I got an O- on that one."

"Nice!" Said Harry, finally pulling a full plate of food towards himself, making sure to drink his potion before starting in on the mountain in front of him.

That night was fairly uneventful, as they all just sat around the fire and talked amiably, Harry flickered in and out of the conversation as he read from _Magical Theory,_ he was well beyond first year at this point, though the book was a hulking tome so he was only just halfway done.

'The scary thing is, this is the basic version.'

He found himself awaiting his friends departure from the land of the waking more than he'd like to admit. He wanted to talk to them, he really did, but he could not get his mind off of the restricted section and what treasures it may hold. After a time, Harry was finally the last of his friends in the common room, and he quickly stepped out of the portrait hole, thanking his lucky stars that Percy Weasley was not present to scold him for leaving the common room after curfew; no one else ever really bothered with the rule. He quickly slipped on his cloak and made his way towards the library. It was odd walking the halls at this time, as the only beings he encountered were Peeves shoving gum in a keyhole, Snape patrolling the halls looking more bored than Harry had ever seen him, and Mrs. Norris, whom Harry had to resist the very strong urge to give a good kick.

Finally he was in the library and a few moments later, he was stepping over the low divider between the open and restricted sections. Carefully he took out his wand, lighting the tip to trace it over the covers. Most of the books looked far beyond his level, but one caught his attention in the first few minutes. _50 Non Lethal Fight Ending Curses Not For Those of The Weak of Heart. _Harry performed a quick and basic diagnostic spell to make sure the book had no obvious curses upon the book before he removed it. Another caught his attention too. He had no idea what the title meant, but thought it may serve of some importance. _Pathways of The Mind: A Guide to The Basics of Mind Magic. _His first thought, as ridiculous as it may have been, was mind reading, and Harry's interest was peaked as he plucked the book off of the shelf after casting the same diagnostic spell.

With his two books now in his bag, Harry left the library in a rather chipper mood. He got halfway back to Gryffindor tower, marvelling at the impact this could have on his preparation to confront Voldemort when he froze, a reckless but wonderful idea springing to his mind.

'If Voldemort wants whatever is in the third floor corridor, I may as well figure out what it is.' His confidence bolstered by his new found impenetrable invisibility, Harry changed course and made his way down to the third floor, encountering only Argus Filch on the fifth floor on his way.

He held his breath as he reached the door to the corridor and raised his wand. There was a good chance the door was warded to repel spells beyond his level but it was worth a try. "Alohomora." The lock clicked and Harry beamed as his heart rate sped up due to anticipation. He stepped forward and quietly opened the door, stepping inside and freezing at the horrible sight that met his eyes.

'That's what Snape meant about three heads.'

Standing before him, suddenly sniffing the air far too curiously for Harry's liking was a massive three headed dog whose eyes glowed in the darkness. In his petrified state, Harry had only a second to glimpse what looked like a trap door beneath the dog's feet before the creature let out a horrible, thundering bark and Harry did the only thing he could think of — he turned on his heal, slammed the door behind him and ran, hoping against hope that the door would lock on its own, not hearing the click that accompanied its closing as he ran for dear life through the halls.

He hardly kept track of where he was going, Harry ran full tilt for longer than he thought himself able. He went up and down staircases at random until he ended up somewhere on the seventh floor, stepping into an abandoned classroom and nearly slumping to the floor with exhaustion. He stood, doubled over and exhausted for several long moments, that was until he felt an odd feeling, as if he was being watched. He looked up, taken aback by what he saw. In the center of the room was the most ornate mirror Harry had ever seen, a mirror that was taller than he was. He froze a second time when he realized it wasn't a mirror at all — well, that wasn't entirely accurate, but it certainly didn't function like one. Reflected in the mirror wasn't his reflection — not really.

Standing in the mirror was Harry, but he was older; still young, but certainly out of Hogwarts. He had an aura of power about him, even through the mirror as his eyes seemed to glow with untold strength. Standing beside him was a tall figure with long flowing hair. It was obviously a woman, but she was bathed completely in shadow and Harry could tell nothing about her. Standing in front of them were two boys who bore unmistakeable resemblances to Harry and a girl who, like the figure Harry was sure was his mother, was bathed in shadow. And then he realized what he was seeing. He was seeing his family— or at least, what it could be. He approached the mirror to look more carefully into it.

'Does this show the future? Does this mean I'm going to defeat Voldemort and live a normal life?'

At the thought, the image blurred and shifted and suddenly it was completely different. Harry stood, draped in a silvery cloak that looked much like his invisibility cloak. He held four wands — two in each hand. One was obviously his own, and the other in the same hand — Harry did not need to guess who the deathly pale, bone like wand belonged to. In his other hand, he held two wands which baffled him far more than their counterparts. The first looked similar to his own, but the wood was darker and it had a few markings upon it. The fourth was stood out nearly as much as Voldemort's. It was the longest of the bunch, carved from a dark wood and seeming to be completely covered in odd, tiny markings. He looked lower and realized that the Harry in the mirror had his foot pressed against the chest of a fallen man, a man with milk white skin and a bald head, a man who Harry somehow knew was Voldemort.

* * *

**January 6th 1992. **

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Gryffindor Common Room.**

**11:07 PM.**

It had been one of the longest days of Harry's life. As excited as he had been to return to lessons, that excitement had been completely snuffed out by his revelation of the mirror the night previous. For one thing, Harry hadn't returned to the common room at all that night; he had stared, transfixed into the mirror, watching it shift back and forward between the two images until sunlight was coming through the window. He had eventually sat down, but he had never taken his eyes off of the mirror. Unfortunately, this had meant that he was little more than a walking corpse today. He could operate on very little sleep, but he still needed some, a fact made evident by his state today. More so though, he no longer found himself overly bothered by the course material. The only thing he wanted to do was to get back in front of that mirror.

Now, Harry stood, reaching for his cloak as he seemed to be the only one left in the common room. "Where are you going?" Came a familiar voice from the corner, making Harry jump.

"Blimey Neville," he said once his heart had come down from his throat, "don't do that mate! You scared the hell out of me!"

"Sorry," said Neville, though he didn't really sound it, "where are you going Harry? You never came back to the common room last night?"

"I got distracted." He said evasively.

"And you're going back to whatever distracted you?"

"Yes." Said Harry honestly. He wouldn't lie to Neville.

"What is it?"

"It's — it's some kind of mirror." He said. "I don't know if it shows you the future, or something else, but what I see in it is incredible."

"I'm coming." Said Neville after a moment's hesitation. "I'm going to make sure you don't stay there all night, and I want to see this mirror."

'He's rather eager to maybe see the future.'

"If you insist," said Harry, the cloak was plenty big enough for the both of them, a fact made clear when he threw it over both him and Neville and still had room to spare and he was quite sure he wasn't going to be able to change his friend's mind. "It might take me awhile to find it though."

And it did. It took the better part of an hour but finally, after much looking, Harry walked into the room and let out an audible sigh when he found it, letting the cloak fall off of him as he shot a quick locking spell at the door and made his way towards the mirror. It was the image of him standing over Voldemort that first greeted him and for a second, he worried what Neville would think as he came up behind him.

"I thought you said this showed something special." Said Neville, sounding a mix of accusing and let down.

"It does!" Protested Harry. "Can't you see it?"

"No," answered Neville, "I just see your reflections."

"Maybe it only works for one person at once," theorized Harry, stepping to the side, "tell me what you see."

Neville nodded, stepped forward and froze, his eyes wide with shock as he went rigid as a board. "Neville," asked Harry, mildly concerned, "is there something wrong?"

"No," he said softly, "no I just — I hope it shows the future."

"What do you see?" Asked Harry, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Neville paused for a second too long, just long enough for Harry to know that whatever he said was not going to be the truth. "My parents — healthy." He lied. Harry knew it wasn't what he saw but didn't call him on it. It would be a callus thing to do, especially after seeing them himself only weeks earlier. Neville stepped back from the mirror, looking concerned. "We should go." He said. "It's late and you need to sleep."

"Go?" Asked Harry incredulously. "Nev, we only just got here."

"Fine," said Neville, seeing that his friend wasn't going to let up, "fine, a few more minutes." Harry beamed, turning back to see his mysterious family looking back out at him, not noticing the haunted look that was momentarily prevalent in his best friend's eyes.

* * *

**January 7th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**11:26 PM.**

It did not take Harry quite as long to find the mirror the next night. Neville had not come along this time. Harry had expected him to at least try and stop him but he hadn't. His friend had been rather subdued for the duration of the day, and as soon as 9:00 had rolled around, Neville had bid them all a goodnight and headed up to the dormitory. Harry loved his friend but he wasn't complaining, the sooner he could get back in front of that mirror, the better.

He stepped into the room, beaming at how quickly he had found the mirror as he turned, dropped the cloak, locked the door and made his way towards the mirror that had captivated his thoughts and attention for the last forty eight hours. He didn't make it three steps before a calm voice spoke from behind him.

"Back again, are we Harry?"

Harry spun so fast he thought he would fall, flicking his wrist and sending his wand flying into his hand from its holster. He took aim, a stunner on his lips when he froze upon seeing who had spoken. Albus Dumbledore sat on a desk, his hands folded in his lap as he looked on in complete calm, his features showing no concern over Harry's reaction.

"S-sorry sir," said Harry, quickly returning his wand to its holster, "I didn't see you there."

"Funny how short sighted being invisible can make us." Said Dumbledore with a small smile, sliding surprisingly gracefully off of the desk and making his way over to stand beside Harry. When Harry said nothing, he spoke again. "So, you, like those before you, have stumbled upon the wonder that is The Mirror of Erised."

Harry nodded, not really seeing any response that suited the situation.

"Do you know what this mirror shows you, Harry?"

"No sir." He answered honestly, hoping it would be the future.

"You are far from the only one who has given such an answer to that question," noted Dumbledore. "Let me explain. The happiest man alive would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like any other mirror; that is to say, he would look into its glass and see himself reflected back at him — just the way he is — no additions or subtractions, just him."

Harry thought for a moment, a theory making itself known to him as he looked at the odd inscription upon the mirror, truly examining it for the first time. A moment later he saw the anagram and it all made sense. "It shows you your heart's greatest desire." He said with an odd sinking feeling. He had hoped this mirror meant that he would surely beat Voldemort in the not so distant future.

"Correct," affirmed Dumbledore sadly, "I take it by your tone that you are disappointed?"

"I thought it might be showing me the future." Said Harry honestly.

Dumbledore looked surprised. "What is it you see when you look into The Mirror of Erised, Harry?"

'Well, that's a personal question.'

"My family," he answered, deciding on a half truth, "I see myself with a family; with a wife and three kids by the looks of it."

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I thought something of the sort," he admitted, "though I suspected you may have seen your parents faces reflected back at you."

"I don't desire anything that is impossible, sir." He said flatly, causing Dumbledore to smile tragically back at him.

"A wise stance to take," he commended, "many have stood and wasted away in front of The Mirror of Erised, consumed by the impossibilities they see within its glass." He shook his head. "Of course, many have wasted away staring at things that are all too possible as well." He turned back to Harry. "The mirror will be moved tomorrow night Harry. I ask that you do not go looking for it. It is best not to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

"Yes sir." Said Harry, realizing for the first time how truly dangerous the mirror could be. If Dumbledore hadn't stopped him, Harry thought very well that he could be wasting away right now like those who he described. "You knew I came here." Harry thought aloud. "You knew I would come back because you knew I was here already."

"Forgive my arrogance Harry, but I do not need a cloak to become invisible." He said with a soft smile.

'Well that would be useful to learn.'

"I did keep a rather close eye on this room; it would have been most irresponsible of me not to given the dangers concerning this artifact, dangers that I am sure you now see as well."

"Yes sir," said Harry honestly, "sir, did-did you see Neville's reaction to the mirror?"

"I did." Said Dumbledore neutrally.

"Do-do you know what he saw professor?"

"On that Harry, I can only guess. Though I think I am right."

"Will-will you tell me sir?"

Dumbledore appraised Harry for a moment before sighing heavily. "Neville Longbottom looks into The Mirror of Erised and sees, reflected back at him, the absolute worst side of himself, manifesting itself to fulfill a dream that he views to be impossible."

Harry blinked. He knew it wasn't his parents, so what else could it be?

"Sir," Harry asked hesitantly, his curiosity getting the best of him once more, "can I ask you something?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You just did, my dear boy, but you may ask one more thing before I ask you to return to the comfort of your dormitory where I am sure you will break into your new copies of Fifty Non Lethal Curses and Pathways To The Mind." Harry paled but Dumbledore waved a hand. "I have told you once before Harry that curiosity is not a sin, though it must be managed and well monitored to avoid natural repercussions. The only thing I ask of you is that in regards to the latter, you not only read and understand, but practice any and all applicable exercises and routines pertaining to Occlumency until you become proficient with the art before you advance onto the section regarding Legilimency. I ask this only for your best interests. The latter can be rather dangerous if the former is not fully understood."

"I will sir," said Harry, taking note of it. Though he still didn't trust Dumbledore fully, though it was restoring slowly, when it came to magic of any sort, anything Albus Dumbledore said had to be taken seriously.

"Your question, Harry?"

"What do you see when you look into the mirror?"

"I see one of those blasted impossibilities we spoke of, one that I would easily waste away staring at if not for the knowledge of those before me and years of wisdom and well practiced self restraint."

* * *

**Authors Endnote:**

**An important chapter this one, some serious foreshadowing went on in more ways than one, so I hope you guys caught at least the more obvious examples of it. **

**Believe it or not, we are nearing the end of year 1 of this story. We have only four chapters left now, so I hope you all enjoy what I have planned for you.**

**I am hoping that there will be no delay between years one and two and that I will have enough pre-written so that I can start posting year 2 right away but we will see. **

**To all who celebrate, I wish you a very Merry Christmas!**

**Please read and review.**

**PS: The next chapter will be posted on Saturday December 28th 2019.**


	12. TSR Ch 12: Eavesdropping and OcclumencY

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Authors Note:**

**This chapter turned out to be surprisingly difficult to write, not necessarily due to its contents per se, but I struggled to make this chapter more interesting and not have it come across as an info dump. To be honest, I think I only partially succeeded, so apologies in advance but I hope you all enjoy either way.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

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**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 12: Eavesdropping and Occlumency. **

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**February 15th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Room of Requirement. **

**8:57 PM.**

"Defodio!" Cried Harry with a vicious slash of his wand towards the dummy opposite him. There was a jet of purple light and suddenly there was a hole that ran straight through the dummies chest, though the magic of the room was quickly allowing it to restore to its original condition. Harry didn't care; it had taken him far too long to master that spell, longer than even the shield charm by a fair margin.

Deffodio; or the gouging curse, was one of the few useful spells he had immediately taken note of from the book on curses he had acquired from the restricted section the night he found The Mirror of Erised. He figured that most of the curses in that book were useful; stuff like the blasting curse for example, but he knew that a curse like that was likely beyond him at the moment. He had started with a few spells based more in transfiguration, as it seemed to be his main area of strength. The serpent conjuration spell, Serpensortia, had taken him a surprisingly short time to master, though it would take more practice in the art of transfiguration before he could shoot a twelve foot cobra or a black mamba from his wand, the spell had worked for him without fail. The Serpensortia spell was part of a branch called the Opugno series. Another example of this was the conjuration of birds, which once conjured, could be easily sent at an enemy by simply incanting the word Opugno. Any of the other conjurations were beyond him at the moment; he had no idea why a snake came so easily to him, but the others wouldn't, not all that surprising really when most were sixth year conjurations.

He had also worked on something a little bit more manageable, the conjuration of both fire and water. The fire had come more easily to him, though he personally thought the water would be more useful. Well Incendio, the most basic spell to conjure fire was certainly more powerful than Aguamenti, the spell to conjure water, Aguamenti, to a point, could be controlled through will and intent, where Incendio pretty much just shot a blob of flames where you pointed your wand. There was another spell, Flagrete, that allowed you to control the stream of fire through will and intent, but Harry had yet to try it, as he had wanted to move onto the more direct curses, starting with the gouging curse.

It had taken him an awful long time, a week, just to do it once and two to get it to a point where it could do real damage, though in fairness, that had largely been due to the intent, not the magic. Upon his initial struggles, Harry had gone and researched the spell, and by extension, what his issue with it was. He didn't find anything on the exact spell, but came across a rather useful passage in one of the books he had been given for Christmas, _Intermediate Magical Theory._ In one of the passages, it spoke of the concepts of light and dark magic.

There was actually a large debate in the magical world that had been going on for years whether there was light and dark magic at all, or whether they were just categorizations given by witches and wizards. The book didn't answer the question, though it spent a chapter on each side of it. It had spoken at length about intent, and though Harry knew the importance of intent in magic, he hadn't realized the scale of its applications to curses. The book had put it in complex terms but what it broke down to was if Harry wanted to use dangerous magic, magic that could have serious repercussions on its target like the gouging curse, he had to truly mean it; he had to want to cause the damage, not just visualize the spell working. Once he had realized this, he had actually picked up on the spell disturbingly fast.

His exploration into the book had taken up much of his time, as had his actual in class work. He had began to go through the spells from _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 2_, and had been working towards performing what Percy Weasley said had been his end of year exams in his second year in both Charms and Transfiguration. He wasn't going to bother prepping for the exam content for Defense, he would just learn the second year material because the exam seemed to fluctuate as much as the teacher did. He was very near being able to successfully perform the Avifors spell, one designed to transfigure small objects into birds and one that would be the main feature of the second year exam in that subject. He could transfigure small objects into one or two misshapen birds, but not the flock of well shaped creatures that he would need to cast for a high passing grade, and only if he was operating with particularly large objects that gave him a lot of matter to work with. As for Charms, the exam was merely a more complex version of the first year variant. Where first years had to make a tea cup tap dance across a desk, in second year, it was a more creative assignment, but something like a gymnastics routine was encouraged.

On top of all of that, the Gryffindor Quidditch team had been practicing like mad for their upcoming match against Hufflepuff; a match that would be taking place in exactly one weeks time. Nervous did not begin to express how he felt about the match. He was nervous for the thing itself. Hufflepuff's seeker, Cedric Diggory was a third year who had played on the house team the year previous, not missing a single snitch for the entirety of the season, though Hufflepuff were still defeated by Slytherin in the final match of that season. Harry knew that Diggory would be his first true test as a seeker and though he could not help but be excited, that excitement was permitted by a fair bit of nervousness at the challenge. Beyond the match though, Harry was rather uneasy about what may go on off of the pitch; after all, last time, a psychopathic dark lord had tried to murder him and he was unsure that Voldemort would not try something once more.

He took a deep, calming breath; he needed a distraction. He reached a hand into his bag and rummaged around, extracting the first thick tome that his hands came across, one that just happened to be unopened.

_Pathways Of The Mind: An Introduction To The Basics of Mind Magic. _

'Well, this should make for an interesting read.'

He opened the book and attempted to scan the table of contents but quickly realized it was useless; he did not understand any of what was listed there. Instead, he flipped to the very next page which was labelled with a large title in faded writing.

_An Introduction To The Mind._

Full of more curiosity than he had felt since he gazed into The Mirror of Erised, Harry began to read.

_As one should expect, the mind is not a simple thing that can easily be changed or exploited through the use of magic, though just because it is not simple to do so, does not mean that the mind does not have its applications in magic, though many are complex and abstract enough that most of the general populace knows not of them._

_The mind is one of the three (or two, depending on your beliefs in regards to the soul) fundamental focal points of our magic. Magic manifests itself in many ways, and is most commonly believed to be fuelled and commanded through a combination of the mind, the blood and, (once more, depending on which side of the fence you stand on), the soul. All of the believed components work together to assure that ones magic flows, and without any one part of them, ones magic would not flow the same way, if at all successfully._

_Beyond being major focal points, all three of these things, whether you believe in the importance of the latter as an applicable focal point or not are inherently magical. Such things that have such a bias towards magic and its conductivity drip with magical potential. The applications of such things are so far reaching and powerful that they have been heavily restricted and even outlawed by many magical governments out of a fear of losing control of their populace, as one who masters the applications of the blood, the soul and the mind could put themselves far beyond ministry control. A mastery of one or more of these things has been a commonly recurring theme when it comes to Centennial Sorcerers, with all of the recognized names associated with that title commanding a mastery of at least one of the aforementioned areas. _

_In regards to the mind, its applications are certainly the best understood, though the roots of said applications and the reasons as to why such things are possible at all remain in large part a mystery. Despite the lack of knowledge as to their roots, the applications of mind magic are many and varied, though when aptly applied, they can be life changing; changing everything from the flow of ones magic, to the organization of one's mind, to the very way that one can perceive time itself. _

_The Mind Arts are as many and varied as their applications, and this area of magic should be explored only by the ambitious among us who can also display great caution on their roads to greatness. The use of the Mind Arts are not for the weak hearted, and if taken up by those who lack the necessary caution and subtlety required to master such a field, they can carry as disastrous consequences as they can prosperous rewards. _

_Venture forward at your discretion, judge the importance of the risk of this stepping stone on your path to greatness but if all does not go to plan, just remember that you have been warned. _

From here, the rest of the page was taken up by two paragraphs discussing how this book would only be covering the two major branches of The Mind Arts and only giving a basic understanding, though it did recommend another book for more complicated applications.

_Complexities of The Mind: A Guide to Mental Mastery and The Advantages That Come With It. _

Harry scribbled down the title of the book in one of his notebooks before flipping the page, his curiosity peaked.

_A Basic Explanation of Occlumency and Legilimency. _

_Occlumency is the process of mastering ones thoughts and emotions, and therefore gaining an unparalleled control of one's mind. There are countless applications of this ancient art, though to understand the most basic and well known of them, you must understand Occlumency's juxtaposing branch of mind magic. _

_Legilimency is often called the opposite of Occlumency but this is not necessarily the truth, and is often a belief spread by the less educated among us. Legilimency is the art of accessing and/or influencing another's mind and gaining an understanding of their thoughts, emotions and actions. Legilimency can also be used on a wider, slightly less direct scale to attain revelations through the subconscious readings a legilimens may gleam off of others, though this skill is particularly rare. _

Harry frowned. The book was rather vague for his liking, though he imagined it was done as a hook, a way of drawing the reader in; it was working. Legilimency in particular caught his attention, though he did not forget Dumbledore's warning, and no matter what he thought about the old man, something he was now far less sure about in general, Albus Dumbledore's advice on magic was not to be dismissed and Harry knew many would kill for such advice.

Tapping his wrist with his wand, Harry casted the Tempus spell, wincing a bit at how much time had passed as he read and copied notes.

'One more page.' He decided, figuring one more couldn't hurt.

_Passive Versus Active Occlumency. _

_To put it simply, there are two major sub branches of both Occlumency and Legilimency, but until the former is elaborated on and hopefully taught in some detail, the second will not be expanded upon due to some rather serious risks associated with the second. _

_Passive Occlumency is the branch of Occlumency that deals specifically with oneself and has no impact on the people or environment around them. _

_The applications of Passive Occlumency are many, but most stem from a mind that is organized, at ease, and allowed to flow much faster and more naturally, which in turn, will allow your magic to do the same if casting is used in conjunction with passive Occlumency. Beyond one's magic, this art has many psychological upsides, like, for example, a nearly instant improvement of one's memory no matter the level it was at before; memory, if supplemented correctly through a fair amount of passive Occlumency can even become eidetic in a sense. This art can also be used to mask emotions from not just those around you but yourself, easily storing the emotions away to be more methodically sorted through later. Emotions can even be suppressed altogether, but this practice comes with some sizeable risks that will be explained in more detail later on in this chapter. _

Harry was far more than curious now; he needed this. By the sounds of it, just this sub branch of Occlumency would allow his magic to flow more easily, thereby aiding his spell casting. On top of that, a more organized mind, better memory and mastery over ones emotions sounded quite tantalizing as well. He looked down towards the next section of the page, hardly able to contain his excitement and wishing for all the world that he had brought this book out far earlier.

_The applications of active Occlumency can not be so easily explained, as there is far more context that must be given to understand them in full. In admittedly vague, layman's terms, active Occlumency can be used as the counter to Legilimency, enabling the user to shield their mind from any outside psychic attacks and most magical influences. Beyond this, active Occlumency has many applications in learning, multi tasking, evaluating, duelling, and so much more, but without the context, anyone reading this would be lost before the exploration of their mind could truly begin._

Harry found that a rather unsatisfying end to what had been a most enthralling read but he wasn't deterred. For now he knew that bed had to be his priority but starting tomorrow, Harry was going to swiftly prioritize Occlumency and then, once he had mastered that, or at least gained enough competence, he would dive into the second half of the mind arts.

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**February 18th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Gryffindor Common Room.**

**7:48 PM.**

Harry wasn't really paying attention as Ron and Dean played chess well Neville engaged the pair of them in conversation. He was reading up on some of the most basic exercises to begin ones progression with Occlumency and trying his best to perform them, exercises to do with clearing his mind. The concept was to empty his mind of all thoughts and emotions and just let the stimuli around him crash over him. This was apparently the main component for the counter to Legilimency, and in many ways, it would begin his journey in Occlumency. Unfortunately, Harry was not very adept with it as he had a rather busy mind at the best of times. Add to that equation the noise level in the Gryffindor common room, and Harry was finding the task of clearing his mind to be one that seemed rather impossible.

Finally he sighed, scooping up his book and getting to his feet. "I'll be back." He murmured to Neville, who scrunched up his brow but nodded. Ron and Dean didn't notice, as both of them were staring intently at the chess board in an attempt to plan their next move. Harry made it only as far as the corridor outside of the common room when he was stopped by a familiar voice, one that reminded him rather forcefully of a muggle drill Sergeant, and one that brought back some of his worst memories involving Quidditch, the ones where he had silently agreed with the Weasley's verbal complaints that their Quidditch captain was torturing them.

"Oi! Harry!" Harry turned, spotting Oliver Wood clambering after him out of the portrait hole. He waited for Wood to catch up once he saw the look on his face. He had never seen the boy look the way he did. It was as if he had lost a loved one to an attack and couldn't decide whether he wanted to mourn the loss or go out and murder the attacker.

"Is everything ok?" Asked Harry cautiously, not really sure how best to react to an irate Oliver Wood.

"No, it bloody well isn't!" Snapped the older boy, causing Harry to flinch at the tone. It reminded him an awful lot of his Uncle Vernon. Oliver must have noticed his reaction because he took a calming breath. "Sorry," he muttered, "I shouldn't be taking it out on you, it's not your fault." He shook his head as if trying to clear it. "We're in trouble." He said gravely, sounding quite downcast.

"Oliver," said Harry with a roll of his eyes, "can you just get on with telling me what happened?"

"Snape!" Spat Wood with more venom in his voice than Harry had ever heard their before. "Snape happened! The greasy git has managed to worm his way into the match! Harry, Snape is going to be the referee for our match against Hufflepuff!"

Harry's mind immediately went into overdrive as he tried to hide his ever evolving reactions.

His first thought had been, 'Well, that's not good.' But then he remembered the last Qudditch match where he was certain that, as crazy as it sounded even to him, Snape had tried his utmost best to save his life.

'Is he refereeing to try and make sure I don't get hurt?'

If so, Harry had to applaud him on a masterful plan. Voldemort would never suspect a thing. Snape's hatred of both Harry and Gryffindor house at large was no secret, and most would simply assume that Snape wanted to assure that Slytherin would still have a shot at the cup.

'Mind you,' thought Harry with some heat, 'he'll likely still take the chance to try and do that.'

"You know what this means, don't you Harry?" Asked Wood, sounding more serious than Harry had ever heard him.

"I have to catch the snitch before Snape can screw us over." He finished dryly, predicting where Wood's line of thought was going.

To his surprise, the older boy winced. "I mean, yeah — that would be ideal, but it actually wasn't what I was going to say." He hesitated. "Look, after the last match I was a right prat. My seeker, who is eleven for Merlin's sake, had just fallen a hundred feet into the ground and the only thing I gave a damn about at his bedside was the fact that he had caught the snitch." Wood scowled, clearly hating himself for it. "I thought about it and realized how stupid it was," he winced again, looking as if he were going to say something that pained him greatly, "Look, Harry, at the end of the day, Quidditch is just a game and me and the rest of the team just want you to be safe; we understand if you need to protect yourself. We get it if you want to sit this one out or-"

"No!" Said Harry, cutting across Wood. He had forgotten that Neville, and likely Hermione too had filled in the Quidditch team about their misguided theory about Snape wanting to kill him. He hadn't bothered correcting them because it would lead to too many unwanted questions, but now, he thought maybe he should have.

"Harry," started Wood gently, "if Snape is in the match, he'll have a clear shot at you. We don't want you to-"

"I'm not backing out!" Said Harry forcefully. "Look Oliver, I really appreciate you guys looking out for me, it means a lot, it really does." And he meant it, it was not something he had experienced a lot of in his life, but he could honestly say he enjoyed the feeling. "I'm not backing out though!" He reinstated fiercely, choosing his next words very carefully, feeling quite a bit more guilty than he would like to admit for lying to someone who he considered to be a friend. "If I back out, I'm letting Snape and Slytherin win! If I back out, I'm letting the whole school know that I'm afraid of Snape, which I'm not!"

"Harry," tried Wood again, "nobody would blame you if you were afraid of somebody who tried to kill you-"

"But I'm not!" Repeated Harry. "Look, I don't imagine the teachers will be caught by surprise this time if Snape tries anything. I bet they'll all be ready for something and besides," he said, his smile widening a bit, "Snape's a cunning Slytherin, he would never use the same plan twice, let alone in a row. It would give him away and be very bold and pig headed."

Despite himself, Wood smiled, shaking his head as if he sincerely wished he wasn't amused. "Fine," he relented, "I can see I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this. Just promise me something," he said with a hopeful smile, "really do catch the snitch quickly, alright? The less time Snape has to do something, the better."

"And the better chance we win!" Added Harry with a smirk.

"Yup," said Oliver, clasping Harry on the shoulder as a wide smile spread across his face, "there's always that!"

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**Febraury 22nd 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Great Hall.**

**8:43 AM.**

If Harry's nerves had been bad for his first Quidditch match of the season, they were something out of this world for the second. At least in the first, he had been nervous for the match itself where this time, the only thing that really concerned him was the psychopathic mass murderer who would likely make another attempt at his life.

He had shot down his team's assistance of food, the mere thought of it made his stomach churn and bile rise, he had no desire to find out what the actual taste of it would do to him at the moment.

Far too quickly Wood was standing and gesturing for the team to follow him and Harry, doing his best to clear his mind of all emotions as his copy of _Pathways Of The Mind _told him to do, resolutely got to his feet and followed his team out of the hall. He had made some progress but now, in the heat of everything, it was no use.

He found that most of Wood's pre game speech went over his head. Something about Hufflepuff not winning the Quidditch Cup in years and some comparisons between their chaser and beater line ups? He did catch something else though once Wood had stopped and Fred and George had gone to look out onto the pitch.

"Blimey," he heard one of them mutter, "the whole school's here."

"Yeah," said the other, "bloody hell; even Dumbledore's turned up."

"What?" Asked Harry sharply, feeling a bubble of hope surge within him as he too made his way towards the door.

"Yeah," said a twin, "look, up there."

And there he was. Sitting in a rather prominent position wearing bright red and gold robes with his silver hair and beard sparkling in the early morning sunlight was the headmaster himself. Despite his tumult of conflicting emotions regarding the man , Harry felt waves of relief crash over him as he literally felt the tension leave his body. "The only one he ever feared." Was how so many had described Dumbledore.

'Voldemort won't attack me with Dumbledore nearby.'

And just like that his nerves were gone and he found himself revelling in Lee's grandiose introductions of both teams. Not even the off putting site of Snape in a referees top did anything to shake him from his sudden chipperness.

Unlike the match against Slytherin, Harry didn't wait to dive into the play, choosing to dive head first into it instead and managing to steal the quaffle and score off the bat, prompting the Gryffindor section to explode as Harry smiled widely at a rather sour looking Snape.

"Never have I seen a seeker that can score like a chaser!" Proclaimed Lee's magically magnified voice. "Harry Potter really is a talent, one that Hogwarts may never have seen anything like before."

Harry did not make Lee look foolish for his declaration. Diving right back into the play and setting up another Gryffindor goal before he shot straight up into the air. Cedric, who had been trying unsuccessfully to block Harry at every turn just swerved out of the way as Harry spotted a glint of gold directly ahead of him. Cedric saw it too, but his mistake had put him far too out of position to ever have a chance, let alone the fact that Harry's slender build lended itself far better to quick turns than his own and in a matter of moments, Harry had the golden ball and a victorious smile on his face as he made the first catch of his young career that he could actually remember, and ended what had been a rather quick match.

"WHAT A FINISH! Never in all of my years have I seen a Hogwarts match end so quickly! What a play by Harry Potter! Take that pretty boy Diggory!" McGonagall didn't even bother to scold Lee for the outburst.

It was nice actually being able to celebrate with the rest of the team, though being hoisted onto their shoulders and paraded around like a trophy had made him a bit uncomfortable. It wasn't all bad though, because if it hadn't been for that aforementioned vantage point, Harry would have never broke into a wide grin at the sight of Snape throwing his broom furiously to the ground and storming off.

When Harry was finally set down and being rushed by his friends, he heard a soft voice speak behind him.

"I dare say that was one of the swiftest catches in recent Hogwarts history!" Harry turned and couldn't help but smile as Dumbledore beamed at him, eyes twinkling perhaps more than Harry had ever seen them do so before. "Your parents would be very proud of you, your father in particular."

"Thank you sir," said Harry sincerely, "it means a lot," he looked around, making sure no one else was listening in as he added, "just you being here in case — you know?"

"Indeed, I do know," said Dumbledore with a small smile, "you may rest assured Harry that I do not take the safety of my students lightly." Now it was his turn to glance around and check their surroundings. They were running out of time, though they still had a few moments. "How is your, shall we say — extra curricular learning coming along?"

"The more direct magic is going well," he answered vaguely incase they were overheard as the crowd was creeping awfully close now, "but the field you recommended I prioritize is a bit of a struggle."

"Yes," said Dumbledore with a nod, "I thought it might be. If you ever need assistance, my office is always open." He gave Harry a rather meaningful look. "It could be quite useful in the future, and I feel that your safety is something that needs to become far more of a priority of mine." His friends were upon them now, and Dumbledore dipped his head in farewell. By the time Harry had looked back towards where he had been after greeting Ron, Dean and Neville, he was gone.

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Harry was walking back to the castle with his friends when he saw a shimmer out of the corner of his eye, oddly reminiscent of the one he had seen months earlier on the staircase. He cursed aloud, doing his best fo appear furious with himself himself. "I forgot my gloves in the dressing room, I'll meet up with you lot up in the common room." He had done nothing of the sort, as they were tucked safely away in his bottomless school bag with the rest of his Quidditch uniform, but his trio of friends did not need to know that.

"I can come with you." Offered Neville brightly.

Harry shook his head, a genuine smile crossing his visage. "Don't bother Neville, it would be a waste of time, I won't be long." Neville just shrugged in a "suit yourself" kind of way before he, Dean and Ron began trudging up to the castle as Harry made back towards the stadium. When he was sure he was out of sight, he mounted his Nimbus and took off, dipping into the forest as soon as he could, for the path that Snape was obviously following couldn't lead him anywhere else.

It took Harry a great deal of time to find him, as he could only fly so fast while remaining out of sight. Indeed, there had been some time when he feared his attempts would be fruitless but finally, he heard voices, prompting him to hover gently out of sight before landing gracefully on a large, sturdy branch hidden out of sight as he looked down on Snape and a rather frightened looking Quirrell.

'Voldemort.' He corrected.

He had come to this conversation late and even with the context he knew, he only found himself truly understanding half of what was said between them, though it was enough for him to get the gist of it.

"...don't know why you wanted to meet here of all places, Severus"

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private, students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone after all."

'So that's what he's after,' thought Harry, having no idea what the Philosopher's Stone was. 'I guess I have a new research project.'

"Have you found out a way to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"but, Severus, I-"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell" from his vantage point, Harry couldn't really see much of either party, but he thought he heard Snape take a step forward, likely towards the other man. He found it odd that Snape was still alive. From what he had heard of Voldemort, this was not something he would take lying down and Snape, talented as he may be, Harry was certain he was no match for Voldemort.

'He must be really committed to the stuttering idiot gimmick.'

"I don't know what you-"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hooted loudly enough to cause Harry to nearly fall out of his tree, but he managed to steady himself just in time to hear Snape speak again. "- your little bit of hocus pocus. I'm waiting."

"But I don't-"

"Very well. We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decide where your loyalties lie."

Snape began to sweep off out of sight. Harry, not wanting to be left alone with Voldemort climbed back onto his broomstick with his head racing and followed Snape, meaning to exit. To his surprise though, Snape himself did not make it far before he took another turn, heading through what looked to be a thick tangle of trees. Harry drifted after him cautiously but cursed aloud when he saw the large, open clearing that Snape was now standing in as if he were waiting for something. Making a split second decision, Harry gently landed out of sight, stuffing his broom into his bottomless bag and pulling from the pocket of his robes his father's cloak of invisibility. The broom was a rather awkward fit, but bottomless was bottomless and he managed it, throwing his cloak over top of himself not a second later.

Now concealed completely, Harry confidently crept his way into the clearing. He saw Snape's head twitch towards him as if he suspected something and take out his wand, muttering something under his breath. Harry held his own breath, terrified whatever spell Snape cast would find him but it didn't, as a moment later Snape merely shook his head slowly.

Harry waited for long enough that he thought he may be wasting his time after all before finally, from out of nowhere, a tall, thin man with silver hair and beard flickered into existence directly in front of Snape. Harry blinked.

'He really wasn't kidding about not needing a cloak to become invisible.'

"You're late," accused Snape, sounding annoyed.

"My apologies," Said Dumbledore with a small smile, "it has been some time since I last ventured into this forest and I found myself most lost."

"Or you spoke to Potter." Snarked Snape, causing Dumbledore to chuckle softly.

"A bit of both, I think." He conceded with a smile that made Snape roll his eyes.

"What discussion with an egotistical eleven year old boy could be so important that you would delay this one?" Harry fumed at the jab but fought down the surge of anger. He would have cleared his mind, but he found he lost touch with the world around him when he did so, and this was no conversation he wanted to miss.

"My discussions with Harry are between the two of us, as are those shared between you and I." His voice did not shift, it was still calm and polite but there was an undertone that broached no argument and Harry could feel the very energy around the headmaster seem to shift.

"If you insist," sneered Snape, "Quirrell is being most unrelenting."

"Yes," said Dumbledore thoughtfully, scratching his beard, "I thought he might be."

"He is quite committed to the act of a stuttering wreck." Noted Snape.

"It is an apt cover," admitted Dumbledore, "I don't think either of us expected young Quirrenus to give away anything of his plans, but I do appreciate your inquiry Severus. I must ask however, if you made any attempts to breach Quirrenus's mind?" Harry's ears perked up at the reference to Legilimency.

"I was not given the opportunity," said Snape sourly, "he is rather careful of where he focuses his attention."

"Ah," sighed Dumbledore, "I should have suspected as much. No matter, the final piece is in place. If Quirrell moves on the Philosopher's Stone, I am now ready."

"How long do you think we have?" Asked Snape neutrally.

"Oh, until he finds a fool proof way past Fluffy that does not involve a curse that would instantly trigger the wards, I suspect, and then he will wait for what he deems a perfect opportunity."

"A time estimate?" Asked Snape impatiently.

"I suspect he will ascertain the information one way or another by the end of the Easter Holidays." Noted Dumbledore thoughtfully. "If not, we may have to tweak things a little bit."

"Very well," said Snape, "and Potter? Do you think, from your mysterious conversations with the boy that he will intervene?"

Harry froze at the sound of his name, listening now, if possible, harder than ever.

"If the time comes when he feels it is necessary," said Dumbledore, glancing oddly ominously in his general direction though Harry knew the headmaster could not see him, "I am sure that Harry will do what is right, not what is easy."

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**Authors Endnote: **

**A short chapter, but the next one is quite long, so you will have that to look forward to. Only three more chapters to go in year 1, the end is near!**

**Please read and review.**

**PS: The next chapter will release next Sunday, January 5th 2020.**

**Have a happy new year!**


	13. TSR Ch 13: Defense, Dragons and Daphne

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Authors Note:**

**Thank you for all of the reviews on the last chapter. This one is probably the most eventful in year 1, so I would appreciate a similar amount of feedback on it if it is not too much to ask for. **

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

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**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal **

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 13: Defense, Dragons, and Daphne Greengrass. **

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**Febraury 23rd 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**10:48 AM.**

Harry had slept rather poorly the night previous. Part of that was due to the tumultuous party that took place within the confines of the Gryffindor common room, but the more pressing reason had to do with everything he had heard the day previous.

Quirrell — or Voldemort, was getting closer to making his move on the Philosopher's Stone according to Dumbledore. This alone was plenty enough to trouble Harry, but being the curious creature he was, he had snuck back to the library the night previous under the cloak and spent several hours looking for references to The Philosopher's Stone. He had found it eventually and its possibilities made his heart skip a beat. Endless wealth and immortality were scary things on their own, but put them in the hands of a psychopathic dark lord and all of a sudden, the world would have a very dire situation on its hands.

The only good thing about the restless sleep that Harry had experienced was that it had allowed him to form a very rough, very tentative plan. First and foremost, he needed to learn how to fight. He was not deluding himself into believing that he would all of a sudden best Voldemort by the end of the year, but he needed any bit of help he could get. He had debated just reading up on duelling, but had eventually decided it wouldn't be the same as actually learning it. He had heard from Ron earlier in the year that Professor Flitwick had been a former national and even European champion in duelling, and the diminutive professor always seemed eager to help, so Harry figured if he had any chance at all at being taught to duel, Flitwick was likely his man.

Aside from that, he would continue to get as far ahead in his studies as he could while simultaneously doing his utmost best to learn Occlumency. Dumbledore's offer of assistance hung in the back of Harry's mind, but he wanted to try it himself first. His trust for the old man was growing, but it still wasn't overly high, and if Augusta knew he was practicing mind magic with Albus Dumbledore she would throw a fit.

Before he knew it, Harry was standing outside of the door that he knew to lead directly into Professor Flitwick's office. He suddenly realized how nervous he was for this conversation. How could he possibly justify wanting to learn how to duel?

'Half truths are always better than lies.' A small, quiet voice reminded him in the back of his mind. Shaking his head and taking a deep, calming breath, Harry knocked three times on the professor's door, hearing the squeak of "come in" only a moment later.

Harry had never been in Professor Flitwick's office and therefore had no idea what to expect. The aforementioned duelling championships were displayed prominently on the wall behind his desk. There were several trophies and medals and two very large, golden plaques that seemed to represent his European Championship victories. On the wall opposite his display, many book shelves were lined with a countless number of tomes. Aside from these, the office was rather unremarkable and extremely organized.

"Mr. Potter," squeaked Flitwick, seeming taken aback, "I did not expect it to be you when I heard a knock on my door. Surely my best student isn't struggling in my subject?"

"Uh — no professor, I'm actually quite far ahead in Charms." He admitted, causing Flitwick to raise an eyebrow.

"Exactly how far ahead are you in the subject, dear boy?"

"I can perform a pretty basic version of what I would be expected to do for my second year Charms exam according to Percy Weasley." He said, causing Flitwick's eyes to widen.

"Oh my!" Exclaimed the professor, positively beaming at Harry. "You weren't kidding were you? Why, I say, even your mother was not so far ahead, and she was the best Charms student the school has seen in the past fifty years!" He shook his head, looking almost amused. "I dare say you should be thinking of extra credit performances for the final exam. I have not given out an O+ in the subject since your mother herself, but I admit that I am rather fond of the idea."

Harry smiled at him. "I'll do my best sir." He promised honestly.

"I have no doubt!" Said an excited looking Flitwick before his face took on a more serious expression. "Now, seeing as you are so far ahead in the subject, I doubt you have come here to discuss it with me?"

"Uh — not exactly sir, I actually came to ask you for help with something else. It doesn't actually have anything to do with my school work."

Flitwick's eyebrows shot up once more. "Go on." He continued, sounding a mix of curious and excited.

"Well," started Harry, "I heard from my friend Ron Weasley that you used to be a champion duelist, and it's obviously true." At this, he gestured to the display of trophies on the wall behind his desk. "I've — taken a sort of interest to the subject and wanted to learn it, but I didn't really think it was something that could be easily learned from books."

"You are correct of course," mused Flitwick thoughtfully, "it is a rather complex subject with its fair share of intricacies, and a book could hardly help one develop a style specifically suited for themselves."

"Exactly," said Harry, though Flitwick had put it far more elegantly than he had thought about it, "well — I know you're probably really busy and I don't know if you're actually allowed to help me, but I-I was wondering if you could teach me sir?"

Flitwick appraised Harry for several seconds before he spoke once more. "Are you really here to learn how to duel, Mr. Potter?" Harry opened his mouth, ready to protest the scepticism when Flitwick went on. "If you are anything like your father, you are likely here to learn how to fight, not duel; and there is quite a difference between the two."

Harry was confused. "What do you mean, professor? Are they not the same thing?"

"Duelling dear boy, though an elegant and admirable art is bound by many specific rules that make some of the best dualists inept in a real life confrontation where spells can be thrown around more freely." He said with a shake of his head. "For instance, in duelling, there is a limited amount of space one has to work with, and anything that is deemed dark by the International Confederation of Duelling is outlawed." He frowned. "In a fight, there are no rules and the stakes are often times far higher than the trophies that you see on these walls." He too gestured to his display.

Harry's heart sank. He definitely wanted to learn the latter, though he was quite certain Flitwick wouldn't teach it to him.

'I could always settle for duelling,' he thought, 'better some training in combat than none at all.'

"I take it by your silence that you would like to learn the latter?" Asked Flitwick, his expression unreadable. Hesitantly, Harry nodded. Flitwick opened a drawer on his desk and pulled from it several pieces of parchment. For a terrifying moment, Harry thought he was going to write an owl to Dumbledore or something, but then he looked up with the most serious expression that Harry had ever seen on his face. "Which days are you most free?"

Harry's jaw fell open. "You-you'll actually teach me how to fight?"

Flitwick smiled sadly at him. "It was not so long ago that your father came to me at the end of his sixth year and asked me an all too similar question, Mr. Potter." He shook his head. "I am not deluded enough to believe that I could have ever taught him how to best The Dark Lord in a fight nor that I can teach you to do the same, but I sometimes imagine what could have been if he had come to me sooner." He sighed heavily. "First year is quite early I must admit, but better early than late." He sho "By all accounts, I should not teach you such things, but I will never forget how it felt to lose two of my favourite people and students, and I feel as if I owe it to your mother and father to give their son the best protection in life that I can afford him." Now he smiled again. "Now, which days are you most free?"

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**March 24th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**8:34 PM.**

Harry felt, like he did after many of his sessions with his Charms professor, battered and exhausted as he made his way back towards Gryffindor tower from their lesson. They had agreed to meet on Tuesdays and Sundays, two of the three free days he had off of Quidditch practice each week. The first lesson had essentially been Flitwick asking him to demonstrate every spell he knew that he thought may be useful in a fight. He had been suitably impressed, perhaps no time more than when he conjured a serpent and sent it striking at the conjured dummy. He had raised his eyebrows at Harry's use of the gouging curse and had seemed quite taken aback, though he had said nothing on the matter.

From there, they spent one day a week either learning and/or refining spells and techniques and the other day combating against one another. Harry knew that Flitwick was going far from all out in their duels, he knew in fact, that he was holding back quite a bit, but he had still yet to come close to besting him, something that did not surprise either of them in the slightest. Not only was Flitwick an incredibly gifted duelist but he was blindingly fast, something that he said was a result of his goblin blood.

Flitwick spent a large amount of their time on dodging, reacting and knowing which way to move in a given situation. Harry found it helped a lot. A tip as small as watching the opponent's chest to see which way they were going to cast was helpful. Today though, Flitwick had taught Harry two rather useful techniques that actually involved magic. The first was a manipulation of water in a sense. More particularly, freezing the conjured water, whether it be to freeze a limb of your enemy or to turn the ground under them to ice. Harry thought it may have been the most useful thing they had learned so far. The other they had not spent much time on, as Flitwick had told harry that he would never imagine a first year capable of it. That was spell deflection, something that he had been imploring against Harry for the duration of their lessons to Harry's annoyance. They had both been impressed with Harry's prowess with this, though it would still take some time before he could confidently rely on it in combat.

All in all, Harry thought the session had gone rather well and was looking forward to a nice quiet night with his friends. He had to finish an essay for Snape, but it wouldn't take long as it was already mostly finished.

As he was walking to Gryffindor tower though, his heart nearly stopped when he felt someone take hold of his arm. He spun, but to his astonishment nobody was there. He went to draw his wand, but he heard a whisper near his ear as he was forcefully led towards a classroom. "I'm not trying to hurt you."

When he and his invisible assailant were inside however, he did summon his wand from his holster, ready to fight if this was some deception despite being quite drained from his attempts at spell deflection. His jaw fell open when the door closed and Daphne Greengrass popped into existence in a similar manner to the way Dumbledore had in the forest. Dumbledore's appearance was more of a shimmer though, where Daphne just — appeared there.

He gaped at her as she locked the door with the locking spell and then proceeded to cast the silencing charm and several others he had never heard of on the door before sighing and turning to him. "Am I about to be cursed, or can I put away my wand?"

Harry closed his eyes and took several calming breaths, trying to slow down his heart rate. "I suppose that if you promise NEVER to do that again, you won't get cursed."

"I promise never to do that again unless I deem it necessary." She said with a quirked eyebrow.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You Slytherins and your loopholes." He muttered before reluctantly reholstering his wand. "What do you want?" He asked her. "And how the hell did you do that?" He added as an afterthought.

"Language Potter," she lightly admonished with a small smirk, "I want your help, and I'm afraid you're going to have to be left wondering how I did that, because I'm hardly going to give away something so valuable."

'Touché.'

"And what, pray tell, could the pureblood princess of Slytherin want with the — what did you call me at New Years again? Golden boy of Gryffindor or something?"

"Yes," said Daphne with a nod, "and stop playing up the blood purity nonsense. You've seen my best friend is a half blood, you can't honestly still think I believe in that nonsense?" Her tone was rather harsh.

Harry winced. "Sorry," he muttered, "that was a stupid generalization to make, but you really did scare the hell out of me!"

"Oh yes," said Daphne with a roll of her eyes and a teasing smile, "blame it on the adrenaline, a ready made excuse." She became more serious once he blushed though, having one her moral victory. "I wanted your help with something, but I didn't figure you would offer it for nothing since you have no reason to and you seem to keep yourself pretty busy."

"You probably figured right." He admitted.

She nodded. "Smart, I would have been disappointed in you if I hadn't. Anyways, I wanted your help preparing for The Defense Against The Dark Arts exam, and with getting ahead in Transfiguration and Charms, the latter in particular."

"That's a lot of time to ask me to give up." Noted Harry. She was asking him to help her progress in the three heaviest subjects if one discluded Potions.

"I am aware," she said with a frown, "which is why I have decided to offer you help in return." She looked at him appraisingly. "You seemed interested, if not annoyed at how far ahead of the rest of you I am in Potions at New Years." He nodded, conceding the point. "Well, you'll likely get a low outstanding on the practical side of the Potions exam anyways, but I figured I would actually teach you the theory behind how I am so far ahead in Potions and help you get as far ahead in the subject as I can."

This definitely caught Harry's attention but he still didn't see how one subject for three was a fair exchange. "I am very interested," he admitted, "but you want to help me with one subject so I can help you with three?"

"I will teach you Ancient Runes as well if you'd like." She offered, seeming to realize how inadequate her offer seemed now despite her prodigious nature in Potions. "My mother and father both had quite an interest in them and I shared it, so I'm probably already at mid fourth year in the subject, and will get further ahead this summer."

"You're getting closer," said Harry with the same smirk. In actuality, if she had nothing else to offer him he would probably take the deal. She was actually a genius in Potions, and the prospect of getting such a head start in a subject as important as Runes did far more than peek his interest. But, even if not magically, he knew all too well that there was likely a lot someone of her standing could offer him.

She sighed. "Yes yes, I know, two subjects in exchange for three, but I honestly don't know what else I can teach you."

"How to become invisible?" He asked innocently. "Or the spells you put on the door?"

"The first isn't something I can teach, and the second is something I would honestly feel guilty offering to you, since you could learn the same thing in ten minutes by reading a book."

'At least I know she's a decent human being.'

"I could pay you for the help, but I imagine you have more than enough money of your own."

"Probably," he said with a shrug, "it's not something I'm overly concerned about at any rate."

"Than I don't know what I can offer you," she admitted, looking a bit put out biting her lip, "unless there's something you can think of?"

'Not unless you know Occlumency.' He thought, but he said nothing. It wouldn't do for anybody he didn't trust implicitly to know of his exploration into that branch of magic, and he hardly thought anyone else his age would even know of it, let alone know it. "Tell you what," he said, the gears in his mind turning, "Teach me Potions and Runes and owe me a favour of my choosing down the line and I'll help you with what you want."

She bit her lip again, seeming to consider that. "A favour from me could be quite valuable given my political standing and connections." she said hesitantly.

"I'm aware." He answered with a smile.

She sighed once more. "Fine," she agreed, "though the favour must be agreeable and reasonable and I will not help you with anything that I think could damage my standing or put me or any of my friends or family at a disadvantage."

"Fair enough," said Harry, having no intentions of asking for anything of that sort as he held out his hand, "it's a deal then?"

She smiled brightly and he thought she ought to do it more, it really did make her look quite pretty. "It's a deal." She agreed, shaking his hand firmly.

'Well, this could be helpful.'

* * *

**April 8th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**7:11 PM.**

Harry growled in frustration as he was once again snapped out of his Occlumency trance. The book did a good job giving exercises and explaining concepts, but it really needed to do a better job of actually explaining how to go about doing the exercises.

"You ok?" Asked Neville, looking up from his Essay beside him. Ron and Dean were still down at supper.

"Yeah," sighed Harry, "just having problems with something."

Neville had come a long way since the start of the school year. He rarely stuttered now if at all, and though Harry knew much of it was an act, he seemed far more outwardly confident to all onlookers. That confidence was certainly justified. Harry had worked with Neville mainly on Defense and Transfiguration quite a bit since their return from the Holidays and he was certain that Neville would do well on the Transfiguration exam, but he knew his strength lay in Defense. His spells carried a large amount of power behind them, and Neville, like Harry, though admittedly to a lesser extent, had a knack for picking up on combat spells. He had mastered the disarming spell and full body bind, and Harry was now teaching him Aegis Vocar, a weaker version of the Protego shield, but one that moved to follow the caster. It was easier to cast, so he figured it would be a good starting point and though it was not as powerful as Protego, he had learned in his practices with Flitwick that the spell had its uses.

Right there in the common room, as Neville's progress flashed through his mind, Harry would have smiled, if not for his frustration with Occlumency. He knew it was important, knew it would improve him exponentially but he couldn't seem to get the hang of it.

'Well, when all else fails.'

He began to pack his bag as he finally resigned himself to the idea that he had been putting off for six weeks now.

"Where are you going?" Asked Neville, sounding perplexed.

"Room of Requirement," lied Harry, using the first excuse that came to his head. He was there enough, Neville would likely believe him.

"Of course you are," his friend responded with a roll of his eyes, "and everybody wonders why you're so far ahead of us."

Harry shook his head amused. "If that was the only reason, Granger would be performing the same practical magic I am, and I doubt that she is."

"I'm certain she isn't." Said Neville with a small smile, waving for Harry to go on and leave.

Harry smiled, only mildly guilty about deceiving his friend but he had to improve himself at all costs. He had helped Neville loads over the last number of months, but he needed to help himself as well.

It wasn't too long of a trek for him to reach the headmaster's office. The gargoyle, like the Gryffindor common room was located on the seventh floor, and it was only a few corridors of a walk before he was standing in front of the gargoyle, telling it the innocuous password and making his way up the spiral stairs towards the door that led to Dumbledore's office, trying to force from his mind the memory of the last time he stepped foot here.

"Enter," called the familiar voice of the headmaster before Harry could knock. He rolled his eyes, he didn't know how Dumbledore did it, but it was a good way of setting the tone for a meeting if he was intending on dictating the terms. "Harry," he said with a smile as Harry stepped into the office, looking mildly surprised, "I have been expecting you for some time." He said, his eyes twinkling as brightly as ever.

Harry didn't really know what to say to that, so he just inclined his head in acknowledgement. He gathered his thoughts for a moment before speaking for the first time. "I've been having some troubles with Occlumency sir."

"Yes," said Dumbledore in a tone oddly reminiscent of that he had used out on the Quidditch pitch a month and a half ago, "yes, I thought you might be."

"Is it normal?" Asked Harry, having been burning to ask the question for weeks, "is it supposed to be this hard? Is there a chance I'll never master it?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Calm yourself dear boy, there is nothing at all wrong with your struggles. There are plenty of witches and wizards who never master the art of Occlumency, not so much due to its difficulty per se, but because of its abstract nature and very limited access to proper instruction."

"Yeah," said Harry with a frown, "the book does a good job of explaining it, and it gives some exercises that I'm guessing are good, but it doesn't really tell me HOW to do them. It just says clear my mind and stuff like that."

"I am not surprised," mused the headmaster, "if I am not mistaken, and between the two of us, I find that quite unlikely, the book you yourself selected as course material is a rather dated tome." Harry looked worried and Dumbledore waved his hand. "There is nothing explicitly wrong with the book. All of the information within its pages is still as valid now as when it was written, and the art of Occlumency has not evolved a whole lot, if at all since its publishing. The problem," he went on, "is, as you say, the book does not give many instructions. It was written in a time where such branches of magic were far more commonly practiced, so clearing one's mind was not such a foreign concept, therefore, the author neglected to give proper instructions."

"Will it only be a problem with the clearing of the mind?" Asked Harry. "Or will it be a recurring theme?"

"It will likely happen a fair few times," admitted Dumbledore, "but once you get a firm hold on the basics, the rest becomes far clearer." He smiled indulgently. "Am I being presumptuous when I guess that you are here to ask me for assistance in the subject?"

"No," admitted Harry, "I need to learn it, the benefits of it are too great not too."

Dumbledore nodded. "It is as useful as it is obscure, yes." He said. "I will teach you,"

Harry smiledin relief "How often can we work on it sir?" He asked, causing Dumbledore to scratch his beard in thought.

"I think that every Friday should be doable as long as you are agreeable?"

"Yes sir," said Harry, eager to finally begin to hopefully make some headway in the elusive branch of magic, and whatever he thought about him, it was something special to be taught magic by the greatest wizard in a thousand years.

"I find however," said Dumbledore with a smile, "that my schedule is rather empty tonight, so if you are eager, we can begin our foray tonight."

Harry's heart fluttered, for all of his excitement he was rather nervous, and that was ignoring the fact that he still didn't trust Dumbledore implicitly but he nodded. "How will you be teaching me, sir?" He asked.

"I will instruct you on how best to clear your mind," said Dumbledore, "from there, I will allow you to gain an aptitude for the process before eventually, likely not for several weeks, I will use the lightest brush of Legilimency that I can manage. I assure you wholeheartedly that it is not enough for me to gleam anything at all from you, it will just allow you to practice clearing your mind as quickly as possible and will hopefully speed up your rate of progression. Once you develop true Occlumency shields and a reflexive ability to clear your mind, we may progress to more serious Legilimency probes."

"Sir," asked Harry tentatively, "don't take this the wrong way, but will you swear an oath that you will try to take nothing from my mind without expressly warning me first?"

Harry expected a great number of things on Dumbledore's face, surprise, offence, hurt, indignance or even anger but he saw none of them. Instead, the old man just nodded and drew from the pocket of his robes a rather odd looking wand. It was of a dark wood and quite long, but the curious thing were all of the odd inscriptions carved upon its surface. But then Dumbledore was speaking and Harry's mind was diverted off of his wand. "I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore swear on my blood, my magic and my life that I will not, under any circumstances, extract any information from the mind of Harry James Potter without his expressed verbal permission while in our lessons. So mote it be." There was a dull pulse of light around him as magic accepted his oath.

Harry could not help but be impressed, the oath was rather more strict than the one he had in mind but he was hardly going to complain.

"Shall we begin then?" Asked Dumbledore with an easy smile. Harry nodded. "Clearing ones mind," began the headmaster, "is the basic guiding principle of Occlumency. In one way or another, this practice will play a part in almost every major action one uses Occlumency to aid or accomplish altogether as you doubtlessly know."" Harry nodded again, this time to show he was keeping up.

"The term clearing the mind is rather deceptive," he continued, "its connotation can be most misleading. One may hear the term, clear your mind and think that the key is to make their mind blank, such a thing is near impossible to maintain, there are few, if any wizards living or dead who could maintain such a facade while under no threat or influence, let alone while being exposed to a Legilimency probe. No, there are far better ways of doing this." Harry had to fight the urge to blush. He was one of those very people who had made that mistake and all of a sudden, the reason why he had been having so much trouble was looking rather obvious.

"The way that I, and many skilled practitioners of Occlumency find works the best is to not to focus on nothing, but instead, to utilize every fibre of your being to focus singularly on one image, one that is ingrained so deeply in your memory that it can be pulled to the surface of ones mind on reflex." Harry thought deeply. There honestly weren't a whole lot of images that could be called up so easily for him, but one floated to the surface of his mind at once, and Harry thought it rather apt.

"Is that all?" Asked Harry.

"Oh no my dear boy," said Dumbledore with a chuckle, "that is all in terms of clearing your mind, but it is far from all." He chuckled again. "Now, why don't you try this now? Pull the image to the surface of your mind and focus on it with all of your being. Allow the image to consume you, think of nothing but the image in your mind's eye, disassociate all emotions attached to it and think singularly of that image and allow all outside stimuli to roll over you." Harry closed his eyes and nodded. "I will give you some time to sink into the trance," Said Dumbledore, "once you do, I will attempt to distract you by using outside stimuli but not Legilimency. Are you ready?" Harry nodded, taking a deep breath as he summoned the image of the underside of a particular set of stairs in Little Whinging and allowed himself to become lost in the image.

Emotions threatened to overtake him, as did memories but he let them all wash over him. Only giving into one or two for a mere few seconds before quickly pushing them aside. This went on for some time before Dumbledore started trying to distract him. First it was merely tapping on his desk, than the rustling of papers, then an oddly hummed tune and finally, several sharp knocks on the desk. The latter came close, but nothing he did managed to break Harry's focus.

Finally, Harry felt a soft tap on his shoulder and he jolted, his eyes flying open and immediately he scowled. "You got me," he said, annoyed, but Dumbledore was beaming at him,

"I most certainly did not." Replied Dumbledore with a wide smile. "You are currently in the stage where the rest of the world will fade away in a sense, physical contact was always going to work, but you managed to fend off all of my distractions." Harry smiled, suddenly feeling a lot better about the session. "No, I brought you back to the land of the living because I think we have done plenty for tonight," he gestured to the clock; it was nearly 10:30, a full twenty five minutes past curfew.

'What the hell, how has so much time passed?'

"I am sure," said Dumbledore with a knowing smile, "that you will assure you are not caught after hours on your way back to the tower?" He said, his eyes twinkling like mad once more.

'He means the cloak.'

"Yes sir," said Harry with a smile, "I can't believe it's been so long."

"As I said, you are currently at quite a rudimentary phase of your Occlumency training, one that does not allow you to maintain a true perception of your time nor your surroundings while your mind is clear. This will improve with practice until eventually, not too long from now I don't think, you will be able to easily maintain a clear mind while still keeping track of your time and surroundings. Some time after that, you will be able to do so while performing academic tasks and even duelling." His eyes sparkled at that and Harry somehow knew that he was aware of his lessons with Flitwick, and he knew that Dumbledore knew that he knew, but neither of them said anything on the matter.

"Thank you sir," said Harry sincerely, for this was more helpful than Harry ever would have thought.

"Practice," instructed Dumbledore, "set an alarm to make sure you do not overdo it, but I would like for you to practice clearing your mind for thirty minutes each night before bed. If you would like to practice more on your own time, you are of course, more than welcome; though I would advise you to set an alarm then as well. It would not do to lose track of time too readily in the middle of your day."

"Yes sir." Said Harry again, planning on practicing quite a bit before and after their next lesson.

"Well then, in that case, I believe you should be off, I bid you a fond farewell."

"Goodnight sir," said Harry as he exited the office, grudgingly trusting Dumbledore more and more by the second.

* * *

**April 11th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Great Hall.**

**6:34 PM.**

As Harry finished his plate of food, Ron let out a loud yawn. "Took you long enough." He commented with a smirk; he was already piling a towering heap of dessert onto his plate.

Harry frowned. "Not everybody has the table manners of an untamed dragon." He bit back, smiling as Ron spluttered.

Ron straightened up, puffing out his chest in the most pompous impersonation of Malfoy he could manage. "I'll have you know Potter," he drawled in a rather poor impersonation of the blonde Slytherin, "my manners are impeccable. After all, I come from a long line of blood traitors that your family could never hold a candle too.!" Harry cracked up as the four of them burst into laughter.

"How would I even respond to that?" Asked Harry once he had recovered, straightening his robes that had become out of order while laughing.

"You don't," said Neville with a roll of his eyes, "nobody can compare to the mighty wit of Ronald Weasley. Instead, you should help me with some Transfiguration and maybe teach me a hex or two?"

Harry shrugged. The Easter Holidays started the next day and he didn't have a whole lot of homework to do. "Sure," he agreed, climbing to his feet, "wanna join us?" He asked Ron and Dean.

"Yeah," said Ron, "just let me finish dessert. Where are we meeting? The library?"

"No," said Harry, while quirking an eyebrow towards Dean in question, "the abandoned classroom nearest the marble staircase that we found at the beginning of the year."

"I'll come in a few minutes with Ron," he said, causing Harry to shrug as he and Neville made for the doors. As Harry was slipping out of the great hall, he nearly jumped a foot into the air when he felt a warm hand close around his wrist and felt something slip gracefully into his hand, but no one was around. He was sure his expression had been priceless, but Neville seemed to be looking in the other direction when he had been slipped the note. Harry did not need to read the note to know who it would be from, but he did eagerly do so anyways once he had helped his three friends with Transfiguration, smiling proudly when Dean managed to transfigure his snuffbox perfectly as the end of year exam dictated. Neville wasn't far off either and Ron's progress was going swimmingly. Finally though, he was in the safety of his bed, and the note, written in a pristinely perfect handwriting was in his hand.

_Potter,_

_We will meet tomorrow afternoon as everybody is leaving for the Easter Holidays. There is an abandoned classroom in the Transfiguration Wing that should serve us well. _

_As a show of good faith, I will play teacher tomorrow, though you will do so the next time we meet. _

_Be there for 1:00 and don't be late; it would be horribly rude to keep a lady waiting._

_I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, though surely not as much as you look forward to seeing me,_

_Daphne. _

Harry could have snarled aloud.

'How the hell did she manage to make me blush in a letter?'

He sighed. Daphne Greengrass was an interesting character and it was abundantly clear that she would not take no for an answer. It was fine by him, as he was quite eager to get ahead in Potions, and Runes promised to be an interesting and potentially useful forray if nothing else.

* * *

**April 12th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**An Abandoned Classroom**

**12:57 PM.**

Harry made a point of not being late to his meeting with Daphne the next day, managing to slip away from his friends with the mention of studying the second year material. He was tempted to hold her up just to spite her for pulling the invisible trick again, or to sneak up on her while under the cloak but he discarded both options. While the first would be satisfying, she hadn't actually wronged him and was actually being quite kind to him. While the second would be hilarious, he one, didn't want anyone else to know that he had a cloak, and two, didn't really want to duel Daphne Greengrass in an abandoned classroom, for he had no way of knowing how she would react. He was sure he was the better duelist anyways, but the ability to seemingly become invisible at will was one that should be treated with both respect and wariness.

So it was with that that he showed up early, intent on waiting with his back against the wall and shield in front of him so that if she tried to surprise him with the invisibility bit, she would run headlong into a shield. Unfortunately for him, as soon as he entered the classroom, the door closed behind him, and an invisible hand clasped his shoulder for a split second, just enough to make him jump.

Daphne's soft laughter permeated the room as she blinked into existence in front of him, the same full smile she had shared at the end of their last meeting spread across her face. "Don't do that!" Harry cried, his heart racing.

She put up her hands in surrender. "I'm sorry," she said, not really sounding the part, "I couldn't resist."

"I suppose that's why you were early then?"

Daphne stuck her chin up. "I would not have been late," she said not unkindly but a bit snottily, "punctuality is the politeness of purebloods."

Harry shook his head. "Halfblood." He reminded her, tapping himself on the chest.

"Pureblood," she countered, gracefully twirling in a manner that made him smile as she elegantly indicated herself.

"Ok ok," he conceded, realizing an argument with Daphne likely wouldn't be going in his favour, "let's get on with why we actually came here."

"Is my company not enough for you?" She asked, putting on a pout that did not at all suit her. Harry snorted, shaking his head.

"That look doesn't suit you." He said.

"Any look suits me," she said with a pointed look, "you should never tell a lady otherwise."

Harry just shook his head. "You're impossible." He decided.

"Impossible to ignore? Impossible to not be around? Impossible to not think about when you-"

"Ok ok!" He said, laughing and blushing both at the same time as he threw up his hands. "I surrender! You win!"

She smirked. "Good boy." She said, patting him gently on the cheek before she tousled his hair in the way a proud parent might do. He was too surprised to flinch right away and she was retracting her hand by the time the reflex had truly manifested. Having one her customary mind games, her face took on a far more serious expression. "So, Potions.."

She listed off several potions and had Harry tell her a step by step analysis of how he would brew each. When he was done with the fourth she looked at him. "Ok," she said, "I would tell you to write that all down to cross reference with what I'm about to tell you, but it seems like you remember it just fine. Unfortunately," she said, "that memory hasn't been doing you much good. Let's start at the beginning, the first step of the sleeping draught is to procure the juice from the Sopophorous bean," Harry nodded to show he remembered, "remind me, how did you go about doing that?"

He looked confused. "Well — you just cut up the bean-"

"Wrong," said Daphne with a small smile.

"But that's what Snape had for the instructions." He insisted. "The textbook too."

"My apologies," said Daphne, "I should have said less correct, not wrong. It will work, but you get about half of the juice you could be getting and add five to ten minutes onto your total brewing time."

Harry gaped at her. "How did you do it then?" He asked, all ears now.

"I crushed it with the flat side of my dagger." She said easily. "Almost anytime you need juice from anything like that, you want to go about it that way." Harry scribbled that down at once.

"I don't get it though," gritted out Harry, "why would Snape write it that way?"

"Because the way the textbook describes it is the ministry approved way." Said Daphne with a roll of her eyes. "It's the way it was done over a century ago and they don't want to change it. If Snape would actually teach us the theory behind the subject instead of just giving you all the instructions, than more people would learn the adaptations to make it easier."

"So that's what you'll teach me?" Asked Harry, suddenly all but desperate to learn it.

"Yes," said Daphne with a nod, "I will actually teach you the theory behind it, not just how to follow instructions. By the end of the year, I hope you'll be able to look at any recipe from at least the first, and hopefully some from the second year and tell me how it could be changed based on the ingredients, their properties, and their reactions with one another."

"Are you sure we're going to get to Runes?" Groaned Harry. "It sounds like we're literally going to have to start from square one for Potions."

"If you'd like to actually become good at the subject and not following instructions, that is exactly what we will have to do." She scowled. "Snape is a brilliant Potions Master, he's written studies that are ingenious, but he is a horrible teacher." Harry gaped and she raised an eyebrow. "What?" She asked him, clearly confused. "Don't tell me that his least favourite student disagrees with me seconds after I have exposed how useless his class has been?"

"No," said Harry quickly, "it's just — I've never heard any Slytherin say anything against him."

"Oh, there are a fair share who don't like him." Assured Daphne. "A minority for sure, but a fair few of us look past his favouritism and see his true colours." She shook her head. "I will take the advantages of being his favourite student, at least outside of Draco, but I will not pretend that he is anything but a useless teacher."

Harry knew in that moment that he and Daphne had a potential for a friendship beyond their little study sessions. He had liked her thus far, and though they would become so immersed in Potions that they would not get to Runes for the remainder of the year, Harry knew in that moment that her honesty and foresight had earned her a large number of points in his book.

* * *

**April 14th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Library.**

**2:43 PM.**

Harry could hardly believe the difference that just one "lesson" with Daphne had made in his view of Potions. He hadn't been bad at it by any means but now, for the Potions they had looked at anyways, and even for some that contained the same or similar ingredients, Harry actually found himself understanding how the Potion worked instead of just knowing it would. This may not have seemed like a big deal to many, but to Harry, it was as if a barrier had been broken and this afternoon, he was helping his three friends with Potions, the subject that, outside of History of Magic at least, gave both Ron and Neville the most trouble.

"Hey Hagrid," said Ron, seeming to latch onto the distraction as his eyes lost some of the fog that had clouded them over. Harry had been down to see Hagrid several times this year with his three friends often accompanying him, though often times it was just he and Ron, or he, Ron and Neville. Ron got on quite well with Hagrid, as he had known his older brother Charlie quite closely at Hogwarts and Harry knew that the massive man harboured a liking for the twins. "What are you doing in the library?" Ron asked him. "I've never seen you in here before."

Hagrid shuffled, trying to fit between rows of books without sending their contents cascading to the floor below. "Jus' lookin'," he said in a voice that immediately made all of them suspicious, though none more than Harry who could sense an odd mixture of guilt, excitement and fear palpable in the air around Hagrid. "Say," said Hagrid, "do any of ya know Hermione Granger?"

"We know of her," said Harry before Ron could put his foot in his mouth, "why do you ask?"

"I've been talkin' to her a bit this year." He revealed, surprising the three of them. "I've been tryin' to let her know how thin's work in our world and such ya know? She's a bit lonely but anyways," he said, not allowing himself to ramble too much, "do any of ya know if she's still lookin' into Nicholas Flamel?"

Harry's blood ran cold. "No idea," he said carefully, "why would she be looking into Nicholas Flamel?" His interest was peaked. He could not help but wonder how on earth the bushy haired witch had put it together, for he was sure such a thing could not merely be coincidence. On the other hand, Hagrid clearly knew about Flamel and the stone, and though Harry liked Hagrid very much, he would not have been all that surprised if Hermione Granger had managed to wheedle some information out of him, a trick that Harry wouldn't mind borrowing himself.

"I-I'm not sure to tell ya the truth." He said gruffly. "But it'll do her no good. It'd be a waste of 'er time to go chasin' after myths and legends when she should be studyin' for exams. Anyways," he said, shoving a number of books into his massive overcoat, "I best be off, things to do and all that, talk to the four o' yas later." And with that he was gone and Harry knew right then what he had to do, he had to get as much information out of Hagrid as he could manage, or at the very least, he had to know what Hermione Granger knew. It would not do for the muggle born witch to throw herself in the path of Voldemort, whether he knew her or not.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he told his friends, standing and making his way over to the section that Hagrid had abandoned. With a jolt, he realized that all of the books were on dragons, and more particularly — how to raise them.

"_I've always fancied meself a dragon; ever since me was young."_

'Oh, for god's sake Hagrid!'

* * *

**April 14th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**Hagrid's Hut.**

**8:22 PM.**

Harry left Hagrid's hut that night with a bubble of dread welling up inside of him.

He would have an uphill battle in front of him if he was ever to make Hagrid see reason and abandon his pet dragon. Even if that did happen, Harry didn't see how he could possibly get the dragon off of the Hogwarts ground without alerting a member of staff, and there could be no argument that one way or another, he had to get the soon to be hatched Norwegian Ridgeback off of the grounds and away from Hagrid's WOODEN HUT.

'Seriously,' thought Harry, 'who the hell thinks a giant creature that can breathe fire makes a good pet? Especially when you live in a WOODEN HUT!'

If that wasn't bad enough, Hermione was looking into Nicholas Flamel and she apparently knew, in large part due to Hagrid's blunders when questioned about the article written months ago in The Daily Prophet in regards to the Gringotts break-in that something connected to Flamel was being hidden at Hogwarts. Soon, he had no doubt that she would find the only obvious artifact that it could be, and not long after, he expected her to put the pieces together involving the third floor corridor.

'I mean, could Dumbledore have made it any more obvious if he tried?'

'And let's not forget,' added another voice in his mind, 'that god dan Cerberus is Hagrid's idea of a pet!'

'Well,' said the other voice, 'I'm not all that surprised really. I mean — we're talking about someone who is trying to raise a bloody fire breathing dragon in a WOODEN HUT!'

"Argh!" Groaned Harry, pressing his fingers to his temples. This was not going to be an easy conclusion to the year, and he had a feeling that some rather significant events were going to transpire in quick succession, and if he was being honest, he just hoped he would be alive to look back on them later.

* * *

**April 24th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Great Hall.**

**1:03 PM.**

The final day of the Easter Holidays had come rather quickly. He had now been through three Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore and he was definitely improving. It was not quite reflexive as of yet, but he could "clear his mind" in less than ten seconds, and virtually no physical distraction would break him from the trance; even light taps on the shoulder wouldn't do it now. The only issue he was still having was that he would still lose track of the world around him, though his perception of time was greatly improving every time he did it, and now, it wasn't too far off from its normal accuracy.

On top of that, Harry had kept up his practices with Flitwick, advanced quite a lot further into the second year curriculum in Charms, Defense and Transfiguration, and kept up his meetings with Daphne.

Now though, on the final day of the Easter Holidays, Harry was looking very much forward to a calm, relaxing day with not a whole lot going on.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, one of the school's barn owls swooped into the hall and swiftly deposited a note in front of him with only two words written upon it in an all too familiar untidy scroll.

_It's hatching._

"Damnit Hagrid!" Cursed Harry, forgetting for a moment that Ron was still eating with him, though Neville and Dean had returned to the common room to play exploding snap not long before now.

"What?" Asked Ron curiously, glancing down at the note before Harry could stop him. "What's hatching?"

Harry cleared his mind, willing his face to be blank but it was too late, Ron's curiosity was peaked and once he realized that Harry would tell him nothing, he himself was on his feet and Harry could do little more than follow him helplessly down to Hagrid's hut and watch the spectacle take place before his very eyes, only just managing to convince Ron that something like the existence of a dragon on the grounds must be kept a secret, even from their closest friends.

* * *

**May 7th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. **

**9:17 PM.**

It was an absolutely exhausted Harry Potter that approached the fat lady's portrait with the password in mind. He had endured a full day of classes, one of the most brutal Quidditch practices he had ever gone through, and just had his brain melted by all of the information he had just taken in during his most recent meeting with Daphne. These meetings were helping him greatly, but she warned him they would likely have to take a break until next year soon due to the fast approaching exams. Harry was confident she would do well on her Defense exam, but she was determined to spend as much time preparing as she could. He wasn't too bothered, as he was pretty sure what he would end up with in everything; the only thing he needed to think about regarding exams was what he would attempt for extra marks in Charms, Transfiguration and Defense Against The Dark Arts.

When he entered the common room, Harry knew immediately that something was wrong. His friends were not down there, but he could just sense it. Going off of his hunch, Harry quickly made his way up to the dormitory but realized the door was locked.

'Should have never taught Ron the locking spell.'

Ron wasn't quite as adept with Transfiguration as the three of them were, but aside from Harry, he was certainly the best with Charms.

"Alohomora." He intoned and the lock clicked. When he made his entrance, he froze when he saw Dean and Neville huddled around Ron, who had his hand wrapped in what looked to be most of a roll of paper towels. Despite that, the blood was still seeping through. He met Harry's eye and he didn't need mind magic to know what Ron was thinking though oddly, much like had been the case with Malfoy, he heard what sounded like broken speech in his mind in a voice that was rather similar to that of the red-head's.

'Dragon … bit me … can't tell others … get rid of it.'

Harry sighed. He had tried to wait it out, wait until he and Ron could come up with an elegant solution to the problem but now, he resigned himself to the fact that matters would have to be rushed along, and a plan, no matter how flawed, would have to be put together very soon.

* * *

**May 20th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**8:05 PM.**

Harry had not felt dread like this ever in his life, not at least, since he had learned that Voldemort was at Hogwarts. He had known they would be in grave trouble as soon as he had seen what looked to be a head of platinum blonde hair running back to the castle from Hagrid's hut. He had figured then that it was only a matter of time before Malfoy ratted them out to Snape, or perhaps worse still — Dumbledore himself.

What he had not expected was for Ron to make the horrifying revelation that Malfoy had stolen his brother's letter of confirmation, and that he likely knew exactly when and how they were planning to get the dragon off of the grounds.

'Why did Hagrid have to think it was a good idea to raise a fire breathing dragon in a BLOODY WOODEN HUT?!'

* * *

**May 22nd 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Headmaster's Office.**

**6:58 PM.**

Harry had decided not to back out of his Occlumency lesson with the headmaster in spite of the fact that it was at midnight tonight they would be hopefully getting rid of the dragon forever, ideally without anybody knowing one had ever been on the grounds.

'Well, except Malfoy.'

Harry was surprised that Malfoy hadn't just ratted them out, but he figured the blonde knew that such allegations could only be backed by facts.

'Well, if he'd have gone to Snape, he probably would have investigated just on his word alone.'

Harry would have liked the rest before their adventure, but he figured that doing anything out of the ordinary would pose a risk of warning the faculty of their plans, something he was not willing to risk.

When he stepped onto the landing of Dumbledore's office he didn't even slow down as he reached for the door, knowing full well that the voice of the headmaster would grant him entrance before he so much as touched the door as it always did.

"Good evening Harry." Greeted Dumbledore as he entered the room, setting aside a rather hefty stack of official looking papers.

"Good evening sir," Harry returned, "that looks fun." He noted with some sarcasm, gesturing to the pile of papers.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Alas, laws must be passed and altered from time to time, and bargains must be upheld." His face took on a more serious expression. "How have you progressed towards being conscious while simultaneously clearing your mind?"

"It's starting to come," said Harry with a genuine smile, rather proud of the feat, "I can see my surroundings but they're really hazy. It's like the image of the world is just burnt onto the image I conjure up."

"That is very good," enthused Dumbledore, "it is the hardest step in the process, from your current point, it should take you only a few more weeks at most before the world around you is as clear as day, though multitasking may still prove difficult."

"Sir," asked Harry tentatively, "is there anyway I can practice this in the summer beyond just repeating clearing my mind if I have progressed enough before then?"

"I think it is best to not dwell on the future just yet," said Dumbledore kindly, "we will cross that bridge when we get there as they say. Tonight, we have more pressing matters to attend to." For a second Harry's heart stopped, as he thought that Malfoy had finally ratted him out to Dumbledore but a second later, the man was speaking again, and Harry felt waves of relief crash over him. "Tonight, we take what I believe will be a huge leap forward on your progression through the mind arts. Tonight, I will test you with light Legilimency for the first time."

Harry's heart fluttered; this would be the real test. "What do I have to do?" He asked Dumbledore with a fair bit of determination.

"When the image is at the surface of your mind," he began, "I will brush the surfaces of your thoughts with very light, very passive Legilimency, but I will be as blunt as I can without actually gleaming any of your thoughts. It may take some time before you reach the point of noticing that anything is amiss, but once you do, you will see a distortion in the image, a blur, or a shift in light, or something similar."

"How do I repel it?" Asked Harry, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"For now," he said, "we will deal only with recognizing it, as I suspect this will take more time than you anticipate. If you reach a sufficient level of this by the end of the night, which, if you do not mind me saying dear boy, I think highly unlikely, then and only then will you be able to repel me at all."

Harry nodded. "Will you use passive Legilimency sir?"

"By definition it will be active," said Dumbledore, "since I will be using the spell. I will do it this way because it is far easier to recognize on your end, but I assure you that I will push as little magic into the connection as possible and will only brush the surface of your thoughts." Harry nodded as Dumbledore withdrew his odd looking wand. "Are you ready?" Harry closed his eyes and conjured up the image. "I recommend eyes closed at the beginning until you gain a fairly firm grasp on doing this." Harry nodded, signalling that he was ready and that he understood. "Legilimens." He heard Dumbledore mutter softly.

Immediately Harry felt something — foreign in his mind, though he noticed no difference in his image immediately. A few minutes later though, he noticed an odd blur near the corner. "I see it!" He exclaimed and the blur vanished at once.

"Very good," came Dumbledore's voice from far away, "come back to us now." Harry pulled himself out of the image and the world came into clear focus as he opened his eyes. "An admirable first attempt." Congratulated the headmaster. "It was still far too slow to have stood a chance of stopping me, but far better than most attempts I have heard of. Are you ready to go again?"

And they continued in this manner for two hours until the time it took Harry to notice Dumbledore had decreased from seven minutes to just under two.

"This is excellent!" Dumbledore said as Harry slumped in his chair, it was oddly draining work. "By the end of the lesson after next, I am certain that you will be able to move on to repelling the presence of another's mind."

Harry nodded, not liking how drained he was on such an important night.

"Well," said Dumbledore with a smile, "if there is nothing else dear boy, I bid you a good night ."

"Goodnight sir." Said Harry as he got to his feet and made his way towards the door but just as he placed his hand on the handle, Dumbledore's voice rang out behind him.

"Do make sure you are handling the stress of exams well Harry, it would be unfortunate if you were caught doing anything — impulsive as a result of said stress."

Harry's heart clenched as he left the office and one thing was as terrifyingly certain to him as his plan for the evening.

'He knows.'

* * *

**May 22nd 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**11:28 PM.**

Seeing Hagrid look so miserable as he handed the boxed dragon over to Harry and Ron was hard for the both of them, though on the bright side, it had distracted Ron from the revelation of Harry's invisibility cloak, something he had told him about a week ago out of necessity for the plan, but something that the other boy had not seen for himself until tonight. Hagrid seemed less surprised, as he had known that Harry's father had once owned one.

At any rate, Harry and Ron would certainly have never gotten the dragon up to the top of the astronomy tower without the aid of the cloak and the silencing charm that Harry had placed upon the box once they heard what sounded very much like the teddy bear Hagrid had promised he had included having its head ripped off. When they did finally reach the top of the tower, though it was with very little time to spare. Harry let out a sigh of relief five minutes later when several unknown wizards with broomsticks swooped out of the sky, and after exchanging brief pleasantries, were airborne once more, this time with the dragon dangling in its box between their brooms.

"They were early," said Ron with some relief, "thank goodness for-" but he let out a gasp of pain as he fell, having had the air knocked out of his body by what appeared to be a flash of light that Harry knew all too well.

'The punching hex, we've been cornered.'

He dove to the side, avoiding three more spells as he came back up to his feet, his wand flying from his holster into his hand as he darted back over to cover Ron while he got his air back and clambered back up to his feet.

"Protego!" Snapped Harry as three more beams of light flew towards him. They spattered uselessly against his shield as their casters, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle stepped into the moonlight, their wands trained on Harry and Ron, who was scrambling for his fallen wand but kept wincing with each movement, Harry suspected the spell had caught him in the liver.

"Come with us, Potter," drawled Malfoy with a smirk, "even you can't take three of us at once."

"Watch me," said Harry, dropping his shield and slashing his wand towards Malfoy so fast that the other boy had no time to react. If he could last even a minute with Flitwick, holding back or not, three first years, two of whom were completely incompetent, would be no problem at all. "Stupefy!" Goyle dove in front of Malfoy, taking the full force of the stunner and falling in a heap. Harry didn't wait for Malfoy's inevitable retaliation, he simply sidestepped and dodged the blonde's first spell, ducking under Crabbe's as they both took aim again. "Aegis Vocar!" Their next two spells broke through his weaker shield charm, but the mobile shield allowed him to get the angle he wanted. "Aguamenti, Congelatio!" The jet of water shot towards Crabbe and he sidestepped, causing it to splash around Malfoy's feet. The blonde whirled on Harry, his wand drawn but suddenly found the ground underneath his feet to be completely iced over, and before he knew it, he was on the floor in a heap, wincing from the impact as he scrambled for his wand.

Crabbe shot another spell at Harry, but he just sidestepped, firing two spells back at him in retaliation. "Expelliarmus, Petrificus Totalus!" Crabbe almost dodged the first, it barely grazed him but still sent his wand spinning towards Harry. The full body bind caught him full in the chest though, and he fell, rigid as a board at the feet of his final standing friend.

"Give up Draco," said Harry, his eyes glowing with an eerie emerald light. "You can't win."

Malfoy snarled and made to raise his wand, but Ron cried out from behind him, hitting him square in the rear end with a boils curse and making Malfoy cry out, sending the same curse back at Ron who managed to sidestep.

"Expelliarmus!" Cried Harry, hitting Malfoy in the back sending him sprawling forwards and causing his wand to come spinning towards him. Harry had just enough time to smile victoriously at Draco before his heart stopped as he felt all three of the wands he was holding leave his grasp, landing in the outstretched hand of the livid looking Transfiguration professor who had been watching the last minute of the duel.

'So close.'

* * *

**May 23rd 1992.**

**Malfoy Manor.**

**The Mistresses Study.**

**1:16 AM.**

Narcissa saw the faint glow of the parchment she had enchanted all those months ago to ensure instant communication with the one person whom she loved more than life itself.

'Draco.'

She reached a slender hand over to the parchment and picked it up. Scanning the contents of the message quickly, her eyes narrowing as her rebuke for her son to go back to bed died in her mind as it was replaced with seething anger and an oddly victorious smile.

_Mother,_

_I will never be The Prince of Slytherin as long as Harry Potter remains at Hogwarts. He has embarrassed and injured me tonight, and no doubt many of the older students will turn on me for losing house points simply for trying to do the right thing. _

_Your son,_

_Draco._

Narcissa sighed, her small smile growing as she rummaged through her desk for a piece of parchment. Plans had to be made.

"I warned you Potter," she breathed out in little more than a whisper, the small smile finding its way back onto her angelic face, "you should have listened."

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**Authors Endnote.**

**I know there was a lot of time skipping and passing quickly over cannon events in this chapter, but the original draft was WAY TOO LONG, and I didn't really skip over anything that changes the story whatsoever. **

**I hope you have enjoyed the changes I did make to cannon in this chapter. **

**A lot happened so let me know what you think.**

**Two more chapters to go for year 1; the end is near.**

**Please read and review. **

**PS: The penultimate chapter of year 1 will be posted next SundayJanuary 12th at approximately 4:00 PM Eastern Standard Time.**


	14. TSR Ch 14: Detentions and Deceptions

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Authors Note:**

**The number of reviews on the last two chapters have blown me away! If you guys could match that on this chapter, it would make my day!**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

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**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 14: Detentions, Deceptions, and Desperation. **

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**May 26th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. **

**10:43 PM.**

All in all, Harry had suffered a pretty rotten number of days since his duel with Malfoy and his cronies up on the Astronomy Tower. He, as well as Ron had been ridiculed by much of their house, for not even the Weasley twins in their most mischievous hour had lost one hundred points for Gryffindor in one go. Harry had personally thought fifty for both him and Ron was a bit harsh, though to be fair, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had each lost fifty points for Slytherin as well, so he supposed that McGonagall had at least been equally harsh on all of them.

On top of that, and more importantly to Harry, he had been passed a note written by Professor Flitwick saying that his lessons had concluded for the year and that they would start up next year. Flitwick said that he hoped Harry saw the problem with using these lessons as a way to overpower other students, though even in a note Harry could tell the professor's heart just wasn't in the admonishment. He secretly thought that Flitwick just wanted time to prep for exams, and that the professor was likely impressed with Harry's ability to take down three opponents at once.

Tonight though would serve as the culmination of his unfortunate few days as he and Ron strode towards the entrance hall, where they were to meet up with Filch for their 11:00 PM detention.

'Seriously, who the hell puts a detention at 11:00 when there are lessons tomorrow?'

When they reached the bottom of the steps and entered into the entrance hall proper, Harry and Ron both scowled at the sight of Malfoy and his two goons, though Filch, as always, was keeping a rather close eye on the lot of them.

"What are they doing here?" Asked Ron, gesturing to the three Slytherins who glared contemptuously back at the pair of them.

"Well they're here for the same reason you are, aren't they?" Asked Filch petulantly. "Makes sense they'd have the same punishment, doesn't it?" Ron looked like he would quite like to argue the point, but he could not find a good enough counter argument, so he fell silent.

To Harry's surprise, the six of them did not creep towards the trophy room, nor the dungeons, nor a teachers class that needed to be tidied. Instead, they continued straight, walking completely out of the castle itself as they began to make their way down the sloping lawns towards Hagrid's hut and the dark, vast forest that was supposed to contain all sorts of terrible things. Harry knew their destination before Malfoy asked it, Filch's eyes were practically devouring the forest ahead of them, and the glee emanating off of the crusty old man was palpable.

"What are we doing out here?" Sneered Malfoy, sounding very much to Harry like what he thought Dudley would sound like if Dudley had ever been scolded in his life.

Filch's stretched, cruel smile told Harry all he needed to know to be certain he was correct, and he did not need to hear the next words out of the caretaker's mouth. "The forest is where you lot are headed." His smile only grew as Malfoy's eyes widen with obvious horror.

'Daphne is a much better Slytherin than Malfoy,' he decided, 'she doesn't wear her emotions on her sleeve. He's lucky he's got a prominent name.'

"I'm not going in there!" Insisted Malfoy vehemently.

Filch scowled as the six of them made their way ever closer to the forest. Malfoy's pale, scared looking face was only accentuated by the moonlight they were all bathed in at present.

"No discipline these days," snarked Filch, "in my day, a comment like that would earn you a good beating at the least. A shame they did away with the old punishments; chain a couple mouthy brats to the ceiling by their wrists and ankles and all of a sudden, they aren't so mouthy anymore." He sneered. "No wonder why you little brats have turned out the way you have. No! You're going into that forest boy! Should've thought about it before you broke the rules, shouldn't you?"

"There's supposed to be all sorts of things in there, and I don't think a squib is capable of protecting us from anything, let alone what's in that forest!" Malfoy sneered at Filch venomously and the other man, the squib apparently, something Harry hadn't actually pieced together but made a lot of sense went red with anger. Before he could explode though, they heard a loud, familiar voice as they neared the hut that Harry had become quite closely acquainted with over the past number of weeks. His heart leapt when he recognized its booming tones.

"There ya are!" Thundered Hagrid, stepping out of the hut with what looked to be a crossbow slung over his shoulder, a large lamp in hand, and his enormous boarhound, Fang, at his heels. "'Bout time," he told Filch, "been waitin' half an hour already." Filch scowled as Hagrid looked at the five of them. "Alright Harry, Ron?" They smiled and Filch sneered.

"You shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," he admonished silkily, "they're here to be punished after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" Asked Hagrid, scowling at the cantankerous caretaker. "Been lecturin' 'em have you? Well, it's not yer place to be doin' that. You've done yer part, I'll take 'em from here."

The man still looked ready to explode but he huffed, sending one last smug look at Malfoy before turning on his heel and shuffling back up towards the castle, reminding Harry of the stereotypical image of a child who had not gotten his way and had to settle for the less pleasurable of two toys.

"I'm not going in that forest!" Malfoy repeated. "There are supposed to be werewolves in there!"

Hagrid just snorted. "Ya're if you want to stay at Hogwarts." He said gruffly. "Ya've done wrong and ya got to pay for it." He shook his head. "And there are no werewolves in that forest, that's stupid rumour started by some idiot who wanted to scare his friends, they couldn't get into the grounds."

'The wards,' Harry realized, 'they must stop dark creatures from entering without permission.'

"But-but I thought I would be doing something normal like writing lines, not this servants work. If my father knew I was doing this-"

"He'd tell ya that's how it is at Hogwarts." Countered Hagrid. "Writing lines? Now what good'll that do anyone? No, ya'll do some'in useful or ya'll get on back up to the castle and start packin' yer bags. If you think yer father would rather ya were expelled, than get goin'!"

Malfoy didn't move nor did he protest, though he very much looked as if he wanted to do both.

"Right then," said Hagrid with some satisfaction, "lemme explain what we're doin', cause what we're here to do tonight is dangerous, and I don't want nobody takin' risks. Follow me over here." And he led them to the very edge of the forest, holding his lamp up high and indicating the thin path ahead.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground there? That's Unicorn blood. There's a Unicorn in there hurt badly; second time in a week. I found one dead in there a few days ago. We're gonna try and find the poor thing, we might have to put it out o' its misery. There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt ya as long as ya stay with me or Fang. Right then, we're gonna split into two teams and follow the trail in different directions. There's blood all over the place. Thing must've been staggerin' around since last night at least. One team'll come with me, the other'll go with Fang."

"I want Fang." Said Malfoy at once, eyeing up the dog with an almost relieved look on his face.

Hagrid's lips twitched underneath his mound of a beard. "Alright then', I warn ya though, he's a right coward." He looked around at them. "Harry, Ron, with me. Malfoy, you and yer friends'll go with Fang. Now if any of us find the Unicorn we'll shoot green sparks up. Get out yer wands and practice now."

They did, practicing red as well, as that would serve as their sign of danger.

After their impromptu lecture, the six of them, plus Fang, made their way into the eerily quiet forest, with Harry, Ron and Hagrid taking the left path and Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle taking the right.

"C-could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Asked Ron, clearly lingering on Malfoy's earlier concerns.

"Even if there were any in here, they're not fast enough. It's not easy to catch a unicorn, they're powerful magical creatures. I never knew one to be hurt before." Every now and then, a ray of moonlight would cascade through the canopy of branches and place a shimmering spotlight on a patch of bluish silver blood.

"Can't of gone too far if it's hurt that badly." Hagrid reassured them. "We'll find it and be outta here in — GET BEHIND THAT TREE!" Hagrid grabbed hold of Harry and Ron and hoisted them into the air, forcing them off of the path and behind a towering oak, turning on his heel and pulling a massive arrow with which he loaded his crossbow. The three of them listened, something was slithering over leaves nearby. It sounded to Harry much like a cloak trailing on the forest floor, or some mysterious serpent looming and ready to strike. Hagrid was squinting up the path but after a moment, the sound vanished. "I knew it," muttered Hagrid, scratching his beard thoughtfully as Harry and Ron stepped out from behind the tree, "there's some'in in here that shouldn't be."

"A werewolf?" Suggested Ron weakly.

Hagrid shook his head. "That wasn't no werewolf and it wasn't no Unicorn neither. I reckon it was what's killin' 'em. Right, follow me, but careful now."

They walked for a few moments before they stumbled upon possibly the most breathtaking, yet simultaneously odd creature that Harry had come across thus far in the magical world. It had the head and body of a man, one with red hair and beard but it's lower half was completely that of a horse, one of a brilliant chestnut colour and a long, red tinged tail.

"A centaur.' He thought, remembering the sketches of them in _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them._

"Oh, it's you, Ronan." Said Hagrid, the relief evident in his voice. "How are ya?" Hagrid stepped forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening Hagrid," boomed Ronan in a deep, majestic voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful Ronan," said Hagrid padding his crossbow, "there's some'in in here that shouldn't be. Ronan, this is Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, students up at the school. You two, this is Ronan."

"Potter, did you say?" Asked Ronan, his voice tinged with sudden curiosity as the creature's dark eyes rested upon Harry, who nodded, looking mildly surprised. The centaur chuckled. "Oh yes child, even amongst magical creatures you are quite famous; though I admit, us centaurs follow your journey for reasons far different than those of your own kin."

'Rather cryptic, and a bit melodramatic.' Noted Harry, vaguely realizing how much the centaur's manner of speaking reminded him of the headmaster.

Ronan looked at Harry for a long moment, dark brown eyes locking with green before he said, not looking up at the sky or breaking eye contact. "Mars is bright tonight."

'What?' Harry knew it was a message of some sort, one meant only for him but the meaning of it was lost. 'Guess I really do need to put more effort into Astronomy after all.'

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "look here Ronan, I'm real glad we ran into ya. We're lookin' for a Unicorn that's been hurt. You seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately and his eyes did not break contact with Harry's before he spoke again, still seeming to direct his words at him and him alone. "Always the innocent are the first victims." He said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have you seen anythin?"

"Mars is bright tonight," said Ronan, staring still unblinkingly at Harry as Hagrid, who was growing a bit irritated now looked on. "Unusually bright."

"Anythin' closer to home?" Asked Hagrid a bit suggestively.

Ronan took a few seconds to answer, doing so in the same manner he had done with all the others. "The forest hides many secrets."

Behind him there was movement and Hagrid raised his crossbow again, but it was only another centaur, this one black bodied and looking more wild than the first.

"Hello Bane," said Hagrid, "alright?"

"Good evening Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough," answered Hagrid, "look, I've just been askin' Ronan whether he's seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a Unicorn hurt, would ya know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked closer, watching Ronan, who was still appraising Harry before glancing to Hagrid, up at the sky, and back to Hagrid again before answering. "Mars is bright tonight."

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily, "well, if ya do hear anythin' let me know. We'll be off then."

Hagrid gestured to them to follow and they did, though Harry did not make it far before he felt a large hand rest on his shoulder and he turned to see the centaur, Ronan, looking down at him.

"Remember." He instructed simply before removing his hand and allowing Harry to follow Ron and Hagrid.

They made little progress for the next few minutes, a fact made only worse when Goyle shot up red sparks because Malfoy and Crabbe had played a practical joke on him. Harry found himself rather grumpy when Hagrid assigned him to accompany Malfoy with Fang while he took the other three students with him.

As Harry and Malfoy set off into the heart of the forest with Fang, his hearing suddenly seemed far sharper than usual. He was picking up every whistle of the wind, every snapping of a twig, every rustling of a leaf. The blood seemed to be thickening on the ground in front of them as their path became increasingly more difficult to follow; the branches became thicker and thicker as they progressed closer and closer to the heart of the forest. Harry could see a clearing ahead through the branches of an ancient oak and he knew, just knew that this was it as he slipped his wand swiftly from his holster, quickly making Malfoy tense beside him.

"I'm not going to curse you, you idiot." Hissed Harry, gesturing to the clearing ahead. "Look."

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. It was the Unicorn alright; It was dead, and as its pearly coat glowed almost otherworldly in the moonlight, Harry thought he had never seen anything so beautiful nor so sad in all of his life. Harry made to edge closer, raising his wand to send up the green sparks when he froze. A bush was rustling on the edge of the clearing, and out of the bush crawled a hooded figure, slithering across the forest floor like some stalking beast. Harry, Malfoy and the boarhound stood transfixed as the hooded figure crawled towards the Unicorn, lowering its head over the gaping wound in the creature's side and began to thirstily drink its blood.

"Ahhh!" Screamed Malfoy, turning and bolting at top speed, Hagrid's faithful boarhound not far behind him.

'You idiot!' Thought Harry as the figure promptly straightened up, turning ever so slowly towards him. Harry did not hesitate, stabbing his wand towards the figure as fast as he could, firing a full-body-bind curse towards it before firing a stunner to its left, exactly in the place where he hoped it would step.

He was right, but it didn't matter, the figure merely sidestepped Harry's first spell and lazily batted aside the second with as much ease as Flitwick ever had. Harry raised his wand, ready to go down with a fight at the very least when the figure looked at him and suddenly, Harry's head exploded with pain that he had never known in all of his life. He forgot about the hooded figure, forgot about the forest, and forgot of Hogwarts, of magic, of life itself. The only things that existed were him and the blinding pain that made him want to split his own head open if for no other reason than to end it. Faintly, from a long way off, Harry thought he heard what sounded oddly like clattering hooves before, thankfully and miraculously, the pain subsided.

Gasping for air, Harry slowly pushed himself to his feet, glimpsing for the third time that night one of the odd creatures that they had spotted what seemed like hours ago now, though this one was neither Ronan nor Bane.

"Are you alright?" Asked the centaur. He looked younger than either Ronan or Bane and had the body of a well kept palimeno.

"Yeah," said Harry, shaking his head as if to rid it of the pain that had already left, "yeah, thank you. What the hell was that?"

The centaur did not answer at once, choosing instead, much like Ronan, to appraise him with brilliant blue eyes, eyes that lingered a second too long on the scar that stood out vividly on Harry's forehead. "You are the Potter boy." Said the centaur. It was not a question. "You had best return to Hagrid. The forest is not safe, least of all for you, least of all now." He shook his head, his eyes flitting ever so briefly up towards the stars before he looked back at Harry. "Can you ride? It will be much faster this way. My name is Firenze," he added as he lowered himself onto his front legs for Harry to clamber onto his back.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing as Ronan and Bane burst into it, cast into perfect, luminescent view by the still shining moon now hovering directly above them in the night sky.

"Firenze!" Thundered Bane. "What are you doing? You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realize who this is?" Said Firenze. "This is the Potter boy, the sooner he leaves the forest the better. And the better condition in which he leaves," he added, "all the better as well."

"What have you told him?" Growled Bane. "We can not go spouting our secrets to humans! Have we not read what is to come from the movement of the planets?"

"All the reason why Firenze's act, though barbaric and crude at best, may one day prove to be for the best." Said Ronan softly, causing Bane to gape at him openly.

"Ronan, surely you know bet-"

"I know the same as you, Bane," he said calmly, "but we both know what will become of us if the heavens' more grim depictions become our reality."

Bane looked very much like he wanted to argue but he didn't, choosing instead to settle for glaring at Firenze. "Go!" Instructed Ronan, and Firenze took off like a shot without warning, causing Harry to take a much firmer grasp on the creature to prevent himself from being thrown.

"What was that thing?" Asked Harry once they were well out of earshot of the other two centaurs. "And why was Bane so furious with you? And what did Ronan mean about grim depictions?"

Firenze slowed until they were moving at no more than a fast trot before he answered with a question of his own. "Harry Potter, do you know what Unicorns blood is used for?"

They had yet to use such an ingredient in Potions, though Daphne had gone over the properties of Unicorn horn with him, so he figured he would hazard a guess. "The horn is used in healing and regenerative potions," he answered slowly, "I'm guessing the blood does the same?"

"Both correct and so far from the truth," mused Firenze, "I assume that you have not used such an ingredient before, and I am quite certain you never will while at this school." The centaur shook its head, sounding disgusted now. "It is a monstrous thing to kill a Unicorn. Only one who had nothing to lose and everything to gain would commit such a crime. The blood of a Unicorn will keep you alive even if you are an inch from death, though it will do so at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenceless to spare your own life and you will have but a half life, a cursed life from the moment the blood touches your lips."

'Voldemort,' he thought. He did not know why The Dark Lord needed such healing properties. 'Maybe he still feels the effects of Halloween all these years later?' At any rate, Harry was sure it was him, for Voldemort was one who would not fear nor care for the consequences of such an act. The question was not if, but why?

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**June 4th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**3:48 PM.**

Harry's face split into the most natural smile he had worn since the night that he and Ron had been caught duelling atop the Astronomy tower as he set down his quill, finishing with his History of Magic, and final examination for his first year; only Hermione had finished faster, though he estimated that she had put more effort into the subject than he had.

All in all, Harry had actually been happy for the arrival of exams, for if nothing else, they served to take his mind off of the looming threat of Voldemort, if only for a couple of hours each day. The exams themselves had gone quite well, though he had known that they would.

He felt as if his Potions exam had gone well enough; definitely better than it would have done if not for Daphne's intervention, though they had stopped their impromptu meetings weeks earlier to allow them both, though mainly Daphne time to prepare for the final exams. Herbology had gone fairly well. He felt as if the written could have maybe gone a little bit better, though the practical went very well, despite the fact that Neville, who was working off to his right, was clearly leagues ahead of the other first year Gryffindors. The most mundane exam in his eyes, Astronomy, hadn't gone as smoothly as the others, but he was sure he had pulled off at least a straight E on the exam, and he had been averaging an E+ or an O- going in, so he was sure the mark would be fine.

The final three subjects were the ones he had spent so much time on this year, and at this point, anything that was not an O+ would be a failure. The last person to receive an O+ in a subject, well, the last three, were from the graduating class of his parents. His mother had been given the grade in Charms, as had Snape in Potions, and his father in Transfiguration. Before they had been at school, the mark had not been seen since Bellatrix Black, now Lestrange, in Defense Against The Dark Arts, though Alastor Moody had done the same a few years prior to her achievement. Before him though, the last man to manage it was one that puzzled Harry, for the boy had managed O+'s in Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Defense Against The Dark Arts and Potions, a feat that was remarkable once you considered that nobody in the fifty years since the mysterious Tom Riddle had left Hogwarts had managed more than one. Surely such a prodigy should be somebody he knew? He would have to ask Dumbledore about him, for he knew Dumbledore had been at the castle for many years.

To achieve an O+ in a given subject, one had to not only perform both the written and practical examination flawlessly, but then, they had to perform magic beyond the scope of the examination, something that they would not even be given the opportunity to do unless they aced the exam itself.

Harry's first crack at this had been Charms, and it was the one he was the least sure of. He had managed to make his tea cup dance perfectly without issue, but it was the extra marks that troubled him. Raising his wand and closing his eyes, Harry made the tea cup perform a rather elaborate ballet routine before, to Flitwick's astonishment and amusement, it performed a rather nerve racking break dancing routine, managing, to Harry's relief, to remain unscathed the entire time.

Bolstered by his success in Charms, Harry walked into his next exam much more confidently. For Transfiguration, he perfectly transfigured his mouse into a snuff box before, asking permission to go for the extra credit, he raised his wand, smiling confidently as he tapped the snuff box with its tip. "Avifors." He incanted, causing the box to shift and separate into several crows, a feat that Harry thought would likely have earned him an outstanding on his second year exam, and one that clearly had Professor McGonagall more than a little bit impressed.

Finally there was defense, and though he was more sure of himself in the subject than he was in Charms, his idea in this one was rather more ambitious. He had debated accepting the O if for no other reason than to not alert Voldemort to his ability, but he was sure The Dark Lord would find out in one manner or another, so he just decided to go for the best mark he could. The stuttering man, or facade as Harry preferred to think of him as looked rather surprised when Harry asked him to throw some minor jinxes at him and increase their severity as they progressed. That was nothing to the look on his face when Harry managed to deflect all of the minor jinxes, and even a few lesser hexes back at him. Mind you, he was a LONG WAY from being able to deflect something even like the full-body-bind curse, but it was a start he was very proud of, and he had actually surprised himself with how well he had done, Harry was rather certain he had pulled off the O+ in at least Defense and Transfiguration.

Despite all of the success of the exams though, it was nice to have them concluded, though Harry knew that bliss would be punctured quite violently when Harry was left on his own to think about Voldemort. That afternoon though, lounging out at the edge of the lake with Ron, Dean and Neville, joking loudly as they talked about their plans for the summer holidays, how they thought the exams had gone, and what they thought would happen during the Quidditch season this summer, Harry, for the first time in weeks, actually managed to let his guard down, though later that same day, he would very much wish he had not.

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**June 4th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Third Floor Corridor. **

**9:06 PM.**

It had taken a great amount of courage for Hermione to drag herself up and out of the Gryffindor portrait hole all the way to the third floor corridor but she was a Gryffindor after all, and was supposed to do what was right, not what was easy.

She had known something was amiss within the school the moment Professor Dumbledore had mentioned the third floor corridor, and the fiasco at Halloween followed up by Professor Snape's obviously injured leg and his stunt at Gryffindor's first Quidditch match had all but confirmed her worst fears. A few long, sincere conversations with Hagrid and she had extracted all the information she had needed, and she hadn't even tried to extract most of it, with the exceptions of Nicholas Flamel and how to get past Fluffy, as Hagrid had christened the Cerberus.

Hermione sighed, pulling a flute from her pocket that she had always enjoyed playing as a child as she stepped towards the doorway, wand outstretched, before she could unlock it however, she froze, when a smooth, cool voice spoke from behind her.

"Good evening Ms. Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure on this innocuous night?" Hermione turned, wand snapping upwards as she expected Snape. To her shock though, the man that faced her was shorter, less thin, and wore, instead of a cloak, an odd, but all too familiar looking turban.

"P-professor Quirrell?" She stuttered, uncertain and terrified at being reprimanded, so much so that she barely even noticed the suspicious lack of a stutter.

"Rhetorical questions get you nowhere, Ms. Granger." He chided lightly, and now she noticed the lack of a stutter; it caused her to frown.

"W-what are you doing here?" She asked quietly, casting a quiet look around, not wanting their conversation to cause any commotion.

Quirrell laughed softly. The laugh was smooth, no sign of the nervous, breathy laugh he had displayed in classes. "No one is coming, Ms. Granger." He said with a small smile. "I assure you, we are most alone."

"Are-are you here to stop Professor Snape, sir?"

"Stop Severus?" Asked Quirrell, sounding confused. "Why would I be here to stop Severus, Ms. Granger?"

"Well — he-he's after the Philosopher's Stone sir. That's why he let the troll in at Halloween, to try and go after it. His leg was hurt and everything, I think the dog must have gotten him." She bit her lip. "I heard Professor McGonagall saying that Professor Dumbledore was at the ministry tonight, so if Professor Snape wanted to go after the stone, now would be the time, wouldn't it?"

For a second, she thought Quirrell would explode. His face was blank, though the shock at her ingenuity was evident in his eyes. Instead though, he did the two last things she expected him to do. The first was to laugh, a completely open and equally mad laugh, one that contorted his face and wracked his body. The second, once his laughter had subsided, was to snap his wand upwards and point it directly at her chest, incanting a spell that she had never heard before. "Imperio."

* * *

**June 4th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Gryffindor Common Room.**

**10:35 PM.**

Harry frowned as he made his way down the steps and back into the Gryffindor common room. Neville had said over an hour ago that he was going down to the common room to write a note to Augusta. Harry had just shrugged, choosing to go through his Occlumency exercises in the comfort of the dorm. When an hour had passed though, an odd, ominous feeling crept into his veins. He knew, just knew that something was horribly wrong.

His wand was already in his hand when he entered the common room, though to his mild surprise, he found himself blissfully alone. The room was empty, all rubbish and personal belongings gone except for one piece of parchment which lay face up on the table, and seemed to glow with an odd, golden light and had a quill and ink well sitting beside it.

Harry approached it carefully, casting the only basic diagnostic spells he could before concluding that, if it was dangerous, the wizard was just of a higher skill than he was. Not overly comforted but trusting his gut, Harry reached out, picking up the piece of parchment and reading the message in vivid, red ink.

_Hello Harry,_

_I think it is time at long last that we have a little chat; face to face._

_I will be able to see your reply when it is written, as you will mine._

_Don't keep me waiting._

Harry's blood froze in his veins. He knew, just knew who was writing him, knew that finally, the game of cat and mouse that he had known he had been playing for months in the back of his head was over. He already knew, but he needed confirmation, so resignedly, he took the quill that was all too conveniently left beside the piece of parchment, dipped it in its ink well and wrote back.

_Who is this?_

As soon as he wrote, his message, along with the original faded, and letters began to replace them as his pen pal wrote back in the same, vivid red font. His reply frightening, and infuriating Harry in equal measures.

_Come now Harry, you-know-who._

Harry's hand shook, though whether it was fear or rage that caused it he did not know as he shakily wrote his reply, employing every Occlumency technique he knew of to keep a moniker of calm.

_And why on earth would I do such a thing? _

The answer was faster this time, and Harry felt his stomach drop out of his body as something vice like closed around his heart.

_Because, I imagine you would like it very much if your friend lived to see tomorrow's sunrise. _

_What have you done with Neville?_

_Very little as of yet, though that will change very quickly if you keep putting off the inevitable. I have waited for many years, I will wait no longer._

Harry did not reply, debating between rushing to wherever Voldemort had Neville, and running straight to the headmaster's office. As if The Dark Lord could read his mind from wherever he waited, the font vanished as his new message made itself clear.

_You have one hour before I start removing limbs. After that, every fifteen minutes will cost your friend one of them. _

_What you would likely classify as "dark magic" is rather difficult, and in some cases even impossible to reverse or heal; just food for thought._

_Don't be late._

That message too vanished before one more replaced it.

_And before you waste time rushing off to the gargoyle, you will find that the headmaster is currently quite far from the castle. _

_You are on your own Harry, time is ticking._

_PS: There is a harp in the corridor, play it, the dog will sleep quickly enough._

Harry's breathing came in sharp, panicked breaths. He wanted to contact Dumbledore, or to run to a teacher, but he knew neither was an option. The first would take too much time, and the second would likely prove useless. No teacher, save Dumbledore, would likely last more than a few minutes against Voldemort, not even Flitwick, and Harry was not going to lead anybody else to their demise tonight.

'I might have already lost one.' He thought, standing to his feet as he pulled his father's cloak from his pocket, taking a deep, calming breath as he threw it over himself and made his way towards the third floor corridor. He felt nothing as he unlocked the door, picked up the harp and began to play, not even flinching when the dog's head lifted for the merest of seconds before slumping back to the floor upon hearing the music. He did pause while looking down the trapdoor into what seemed like impenetrable darkness, but he didn't hesitate long.

'This is probably only ending one way anyways, and he seems to want to do it himself, so this probably won't kill me.'

The plant at the bottom may have, had Harry not been best friends with a Herbology expert, rather quick witted and conveniently capable of conjuring fire. The Incendio spell was more than enough, and the Devil's Snare let out a horrible cry as it retreated into the far corner. Harry debated shooting more flames to finish it off, but he knew his time was short as it was. He ran into the next chamber, taken aback when he saw what was there. A hundred keys floating in the air and opposite him, what looked to be…

'Broomsticks? You've got to be kidding me? Was this tailor made for me?'

He snatched up a broomstick and took flight, weaving in and out of the keys before snatching the correct one out of the sky. The broom felt quite sluggish compared to his Nimbus, but the keys were not overly fast, and they were not at all a physical threat.

'This seems way too easy so far unless Voldemort made it easier for me.'

The next room may as well have not been there. He imagined the life sized chess board, at least that's what he thought it must have been, once looked quite grand but now, with scorch marks all across it and ashes in place of where the pieces must have been, it looked too sinister to be anything but ominous.

He was almost thankful for Voldemort in the next room. The troll lay, unmoving on the floor, and though he may very well die at any rate, death by troll did not sound overly pleasant, and he was quite certain he would not have bested it without help.

When he entered the final room, flames erupted immediately, barricading him in from both sides as he eyed the table in the center of the room, bearing parchment and vials.

'The rooms are all organized by subject.' He realized. 'The keys are Charms, the chess set was Transfiguration, the troll was Defense, the plant was Herbology, and this is Potions.' He was immediately on guard. Whatever he felt for Snape, the man was cunning and intelligent, and Harry doubted very much that this would be easy, as Voldemort didn't seem to have been able to make this any less dangerous for him.

He was wrong though. Though he thought he would have solved the riddle eventually, Voldemort had done so for him, with clear instructions written on the sheet of parchment. Harry sighed, stealing himself as he downed the small vial in one, determined gulp, flicking his wand into his hand as he made his way straight through the purple flames.

'If I'm going out, I'm going out fighting.'

* * *

**Authors Endnote: **

**A bit of a cliffhanger, I know.**

**I had several ideas on how I would get Harry through the trapdoor and down to confront Voldemort, but this one actually plays into a long term plot point, so I thought it quite clever. It will be a long time until you guys fully understand, but let me know what you thought of the setup anyways.**

**One more chapter for year 1, I hope you are all ready!**

**Please read and review. **

PS: The final chapter of year 1 will be posted on Sunday January 26th 2020. I wish I could post it earlier, but a lack of wifi will assure that I can not.


	15. TSR Ch 15: Confrontation and Conclusions

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

**Authors Note 1:**

**I know I said this wasn't going up for another week due to my travels, but remember when I joked about posting this if they completely overhauled their WIFI in the last year? Well, they have, so here we are! **

**For information on the start of year 2, please see the Authors Endnote. **

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**Authors Note 2:**

**The final instalment of year 1! I hope you guys enjoy! FYI the AN at the end will likely be long, but I encourage you to read it. **

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin ****by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy Who Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by Jack Potter.**

**Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence. **

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victo****ry by Darkness Enthroned.**

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 1: The Saviour's Return.**

**Chapter 15: Conclusions and Confrontations.**

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**June 4th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Catacombs.**

**11:28 PM.**

Harry paused for only a moment as he stepped through the fire, knowing that he had one, and only one chance at coming out of this alive, and that it was resting in the pocket of his robes. Taking off his father's cloak and draping it over top of himself, he set his jaw and marched forward, knowing that this very well may be his last and only chance at revenge.

He did not hesitate any longer. As he stepped through the purple fire into a final, low ceilinged room, Harry saw him, the stuttering wonder himself, with Neville tied precariously at his feet. There was another as well, though Harry could not make out their identity as they had their back to him and were standing behind Voldemort, seeming to be inspecting something that Harry could not completely see. As soon as he saw the outline of Voldemort, Harry's wand snapped up, and he quickly fired off the most dangerous spell he knew, taking aim at the chest where he hoped a direct hit would be fatal.

"Deffodio!" The jet of purple light streaked across the room and eyes wide, the figure raised his own wand at the last possible second, conjuring a bright, opaque shield to absorb the spell, though the shield flashed dangerously as it did so. The figure spun, eyes looking straight through Harry but not being able to see him.

"Potter, come out and-"

"Incendio!" The bolt of fire shot straight towards the man but he didn't so much as flinch, sending it instead shooting up into the ceiling with a flick of his wand. "Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Petrificus Totalus!"

None of his spells found their mark, but Harry could see the man becoming visibly frustrated.

"Master, I can not find him, his magic is hidden and I do not have your abilities with wandwork, what do I do?"

Harry paused in his casting for only a moment, long enough to wonder who Voldemort would ever call master before a terrible hiss of a voice answered, one that seemed to be coming from the back of the man's head.

"Use the boy!"

Instantly, the man's wand was on Neville, and its point was growing an eerie green colour. "Stop!" He commanded and Harry froze, knowing all too well from years of dreams what green light meant in the magical world. "One more spell and the Longbottom boy dies, one more bit of resistance and he loses an arm! Now, reveal yourself!"

He knew the game was up. No matter what happened to him, he could not allow Neville to die.

"I want an oath that you won't kill or harm Neville if I do so." He said, stepping to the side after he spoke as to not give away his location. If he was going to die, he would at least do so while assuring that his friend and brother remained safe. From his bindings, Harry could see Neville shaking his head furiously, but he didn't care.

The man sneered, "You are in no place to make demands of me, Potter. Not when your friend is-"

"Give the oath." The same, terrible voice spoke again. It sounded like iron scraping against a chalkboard, but worse.

"Master, do you think it wise to-"

"Now!"

The man flinched, raising his wand in front of him. "I, Quirrenus Quirrell swear on my blood, my magic and my life that I will not harm nor kill Neville Franklin Longbottom if Harry James Potter reveals himself to me and does not resist. So mote it be."

The light pulsed around him and Harry froze.

'The magic wouldn't have recognized his oath if he lied about his name. What the hell, I thought he was Voldemort, I was so-' and then his mind paused, going back to the horrible voice coming from behind him and all of a sudden, it made perfect sense why Voldemort was after the stone. He still needed a body, and the stone would give him one.

'Damnit, I was too cautious, I could have brought a teacher, they could have taken Quirrell!'

"I'm waiting, Potter."

Knowing that the game was well and truly over now, Harry slipped the cloak off of himself, letting it fall to the floor behind him as he turned to face Quirrell, defiance burning in his emerald green eyes that, ever since glasses had not blocked them, had only seemed to grow brighter as the months had passed by.

"Accio invisibility cloak." Intoned Quirrell, but the cloak did not so much as twitch as the man frowned. "Accio Harry Potter's invisibility cloak!" He tried with more gusto but the cloak refused to move and he frowned once more.

"It does not matter," hissed the other voice, "I do not need a cloak to become invisible, it is the stone that matters now."

The man nodded, snapping his fingers and imprisoning Harry in ropes before he could do so much as move. Quirrell gestured and from behind him walked the last figure Harry expected to see.

"Granger!" He gasped, as the girl walked forward.

Quirrell smiled. "Yes, she has been suspicious for some time. It turned out to be quite useful in the end, though she suspected the wrong man."

"Snape." Snarled Harry.

Quirrell smirked. "I see you detest him as much as he does you, though perhaps not quite as much as he did your father. He turned to Hermione and she spoke in a dull, monotone voice.

"The mirror shows no weaknesses, the enchantments would protect it from all but the strongest of magic." Quirrell hissed furiously.

"Master, what do I do? I can not break the mirror without risking the destruction of the stone and it will not give it to me!"

"Potter," hissed the voice, "use Potter."

"Yes!" He said, summoning Harry's wand to him before releasing him of his bindings, "Potter, come here!" Reluctantly, Harry obeyed, stepping in front of Quirrell and looking, to his stunned amazement, into The Mirror of Erised once again.

In the mirror, Harry stood over Voldemort like he had before, but this time, he smiled cheekily down at his foe, taking from his pocket an odd, red stone, before winking at the real Harry and repocketing it and in that moment, Harry felt an odd weight fill his pocket.

'How the hell does that work?'

"What do you see?" Asked Quirrell, and now, Harry knew that he had no way of knowing. Resolutely avoiding the other man's eyes and summoning the image of his old cupboard to his mind, Harry resolutely mentioned the first thing he could think of, the same lie he had given Dumbledore all those months ago.

"I see myself with a family."

Quirrell snarled but Voldemort spoke once more. "Let me speak to him."

"M-m-my lord, you are not strong enough-"

"I have strength enough for this!"

Reluctantly Quirrell turned, dropping as he did so the turban that had adorned him for so long, revealing a horrible face that was straight out of one of the corny horror movies that his oaf of a cousin had enjoyed.

Where the back of Quirrell's head should have been was a milk white face, one with a nose as flat as a snake's and slits for pupils, the eyes glowing an unnatural red colour.

"Harry Potter," hissed Voldemort, smiling almost sadly at him, "do you see what has become of me? Do you see what you have reduced me too?"

"You deserved it!" Hissed Harry, unable to bite back the childish retort.

Voldemort chuckled. "Who is to say that anybody deserves anything? So young, so weak, so naive. The world is not as black and white as you and your hero Dumbledore view it, Harry. The world is a complex place, filled with no light and dark, but intricacies, layers upon layers of them. There is no light and dark, no good and evil, only power, and those too weak to wield it."

Harry had no reply, there was an odd lump in his throat as he tried to take in everything that Voldemort was saying.

The Dark Lord frowned. "You are weak now, but you will not be for long. Such a waste it would be to snuff out such a brilliant wielder of magic, one with the potential to be so much more than his mentor." Voldemort's frown deepened. "I have wasted far too many, spilled far too much magical blood. Your mother for example; she was supremely talented and had the intelligence to match any on my side." He sighed. "Such a waste; she need not have died, it was always you I was after."

Harry's mind blanked. `Why the hell did he want to kill me?'

"Please," Said Voldemort softly, "do not force my hand once more. Your potential outdoes even that of your mother. There has been no one like you since.." he smiled, "well, since me."

"I'm not like you at all!" Harry bit back hotly, but Voldemort merely smiled.

"Aren't you? A half blood orphan born into a dying family with a long magical lineage, raised by Muggles who despised your very existence but in the end, you, much like me before you, overcame the neglect and abuse to become a magical prodigy the likes of which has rarely ever been seen before." Voldemort smiled at the shocked look on Harry's face. "We are not all that different Harry, in many ways, we are much the same."

Harry's jaw set as he glared at Voldemort. "We should not be opposing one another." He continued. "With my power and your potential, we could rule, we could be unopposed. Not even Dumbledore could ever dream of rivaling us." His red eyes were shining now. "I can grant you anything Harry; power, fame, fortune, knowledge, all you have to do is give me that stone in your pocket."

Harry cursed himself. 'Why did I have to look him in the eyes?' "Anything?" He asked, making a conscious effort to keep his voice neutral.

"Anything," Voldemort promised, a small smile tugging at his lips as Neville's eyes bulged out of his head at Harry's seeming acceptance.

"I want my parents back." Harry said, and this time, he made no attempt at hiding the contempt and venom in his voice.

Voldemort sighed. "You ask the one thing I can not give you. Surely you know that there is no way to raise the dead? It is why death is the ultimate punishment."

"Than I'm afraid we have no deal." Said Harry, lunging at Quirrell and knocking him flat, the wand flying from the wizard's hand. As Harry took hold of the man's neck, his head split open, and suddenly, the pain he had felt in the forbidden forest days earlier seemed nothing in comparison as he screamed in agony, hearing Voldemort's high cries of "kill him, kill him!" from somewhere far, far away. He felt Quirrell roll him onto his back, but Harry did not remove his hands, and the last thing he heard before the world around him faded to black was a cacophony of screaming.

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**June 7th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. **

**The Hospital Wing.**

**3:11 PM.**

Harry let out a soft groan as slowly, ever so slowly, he felt himself drifting out of his slumber. He was not laying on a hard floor like the one he had blacked out on. The surface underneath him was warm, soft and comfortable. His eyes flickered, and for a second he did not recognize his surroundings.

"Am I dead?" He whispered softly, to which his words were greeted by an audible sigh of relief and a soft chuckle.

"Despite what must have been quite close to your best efforts, I assure you, my boy that you are very much alive." Harry tried to sit up in a flash but almost blacked out again as dark spots danced in front of his eyes and he felt a dejavu moment as hands eased him back onto the pillows. "Save your energy Harry, it is over, everything is perfectly in order."

"Quirrell — the stone — Voldemort?" He asked in a panic.

"It seems you are a bit behind the times. Quirrell does not have the stone Harry, please relax."

Harry took a deep, calming breath but still found that as he looked around the room, his eyes falling on what appeared to be several mountains of sweets, his heart rate would not come down.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers." Said the voice again, and looking at him properly for the first time, Harry recognized the rather tired looking face of his headmaster.

"Sir — the stone — Quirrell — did you get there in time? What happened? How long have I been out?"

Dumbledore sighed, a sad looking smile creeping onto his face. "I see you will not be discouraged so easily. Very well, you have been in the hospital wing for the better part of three days." When Harry made to speak again, Dumbledore raised a hand to silence him. "Quirrell did not manage to take the stone from you, Harry, I arrived in time to prevent that, though I must say, you were doing rather well on your own."

"You got there? How did you know what was going on, I thought you were gone from the castle."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "For all of Lord Voldemort's brilliance, not even he can unravel the most subtle of enchantments while imprisoned in the body of a lesser man, least of all when said enchantments are tied so closely to the magic of the castle. I was alerted as soon as the final chamber was entered, though it took me time to extricate myself from Cornelius's — that is to say, the minister's presence. Once I did so however, I rushed back here as quickly as I could." He frowned deeply. "When I saw the state you were in, I briefly thought that I was too late."

"You nearly were," Harry admitted disgustedly, "I wouldn't have been able to keep him from the stone any longer. I was never a match for him."

"Not the stone dear boy — you. The effort involved very nearly killed you, for a few fleeting moments, I was afraid that it had." He shook his head. "You should never have to be a match for a fully grown sorcerer at the age of eleven, such things are both impossible and foolish. That being said, there was very little for me to do once I had arrived. Professor Quirrell had already been defeated, and Lord Voldemort had fled." He shook his head, the saddest expression yet crossing his face. "As for the stone, it was never truly in any real danger at all."

"What?" Asked Harry, his eyes going wide. "Sir, what do you mean it was never in any real danger?"

"My apologies, Harry," said Dumbledore, "I underestimated how foolish that would sound without the proper context; allow me to elucidate. You see, The Philosopher's Stone was never, and has never been at Hogwarts, the replica that you managed to extract from The Mirror of Erised was just that — a replica."

Harry's jaw fell open. "W-what? W-why?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Why? Because I knew that Lord Voldemort, no matter his condition, would never be able to pass up the opportunity to procure an item that he thought may return him to his former power, and with a few leaked breadcrumbs to the right people, I believed that I had an infallible trap in place."

"I don't understand." Said Harry.

"The Mirror, Harry, does far more than show one their heart's greatest desire. It feeds on the dreams and emotions of those who stare into its glass, and Lord Voldemort, being a Shade is little more than dreams and emotions himself at the moment." The headmaster shook his head again. "I believed that the mirror would, at the very least, trap Lord Voldemort in a state of helplessness, at which point he may have been finished off by the right people. At best, I had hoped that the mirror would absorb his essence completely, though between the two of us, I always knew that the latter option was unlikely."

"You set this all up to destroy him?" Realized Harry, thinking that, despite the recklessness of the plan, it had been a rather good one.

"I did," sighed Dumbledore, "but in my singular goal of destroying Lord Voldemort, I neglected to consider the possibility of others getting in his way."

"I'm sorry," said Harry, knowing that he very well may have botched the entire thing.

"Do not apologize for sparing Mr. Longbottom's life, Harry, that was a brave and noble thing to do, and I can not tell you how proud of you I am. No, by the time that you received your correspondence from Quirrenus, it was far too late to turn back. I was speaking, not of you, but of Ms. Hermione Granger."

"Yeah," remembered Harry, "yeah, what-what happened to her sir? If you don't mind me asking?"

"Seeing as her fate led directly to you being trapped in that chamber with a shade of your parents' murderer, I think it a fair question for you to ask. Ms. Granger, much like I know you yourself had, deduced that the Philosopher's Stone was being hidden in the third floor corridor, or at least, the corridor had something to do with the stone. She suspected the wrong man, but her intentions were good. Having found out that I would be absent from the school that night, Ms. Granger took it upon herself to guard the door that evening." Harry's jaw fell open and Dumbledore nodded. "I see that I am not alone in my ability to see the obvious flaws in that plan?"

"She could never have stopped Quirrell." Harry said bluntly, to which Dumbledore nodded.

"She did not suspect Quirrell, but yes, you are correct. She was caught by surprise and bent to the will of young Quirrenus and by extension, Lord Voldemort and forced to stun Mr. Longbottom and bring him down to the chamber, leaving you an enchanted piece of parchment to draw you down after them."

"The Imperius curse." Harry whispered, causing Dumbledore to raise his eyebrows.

"I must express my surprise and slight disappointment that you are aware of such a spell." He said honestly.

"My guardian told me about it." Harry said flatly, to which Dumbledore nodded.

"Is it safe to assume then, that your guardian is Augusta Longbottom?" Harry's eyes widened in panic but Dumbledore raised his hands in surrender. "I have no plans of taking you from her hands, as now more than ever, I see that you are better off with her, though I wish very much that it did not have to be so."

There was silence for a moment before Harry spoke. "Is she-is Neville-"

"Both are most alright," Said Dumbledore with a frown, "Mr. Longbottom is awaiting you back in Gryffindor tower, and will likely be waiting for answers on how you and he came to be in a chamber with Lord Voldemort."

"You didn't tell him?" Harry asked, trying not to sound accusatory.

"I did," assured Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye, "though if I have judged him correctly, I would hazard a guess that he will insist upon hearing it from your perspective."

'Damn he's perceptive.'

"I'm sure Hermione will want to talk to me too." Sighed Harry, not at all looking forward to that conversation.

"I think it unlikely," said Dumbledore softly, an odd note of sadness creeping into his voice.

Harry's heart froze. "You-you said she was ok, didn't you?"

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore, "she is perfectly fine, though I am afraid she remembers very little of that night."

"She would still remember waking up down there though, wouldn't she?" Asked Harry, not seeing how the imperius curse would remove that from her memory.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "It is not the curse that stripped Ms. Granger of her memories Harry — that was my doing."

Harry's jaw fell open. "But why?" He asked, anger rising. "How could you just-"

"Do you not see the problems that would have occurred had Ms. Granger retained those memories?" Asked Dumbledore heavily, suddenly looking every bit his age for the first time in Harry's memory. "Not only would she have been greatly traumatized, as she was after I filled in the blanks for her, but Hermione Granger, for all of her considerable brilliance, is not the person to keep a secret that could concern the magical world at large, and as you seem to know yourself, the continued existence of Lord Voldemort must be kept a secret from the greater magical community; at least for now."

Harry wanted to argue, to tell Dumbledore how wrong it was to just erase someone's memory, but he had to concede he was right.

'Hell, I probably would have done the same thing.

There was silence for a long moment before Harry spoke up tentatively. "Sir, I wanted to ask some questions?"

"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Down in the chamber," said Harry, now used to Dumbledore's odd way of speaking, "I talked to Voldemort. He-he said my mother need never have died; he said that it was me he was after." He wrung his hands, looking down into his lap as he tried to keep the emotion away from his eyes. "Why? Why would he come after a toddler?"

Dumbledore suddenly looked not just every bit his age, but a fair bit more so as Harry looked up to meet his eyes. "Alas, the first question you ask me, I can not answer, not today, not now. You will know when the time comes, when you are older — I know you hate to hear this — when you are older, when you are ready, I promise that you will know."

Harry bit back his retort. 'How could I be anymore ready? I just confronted The Dark Lord?' But he said nothing on the matter, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Even if Voldemort — er, sorry, you-know-who-"

"I appreciate your attempt at politeness Harry, but please, continue to call him Voldemort no matter your company. Fear of a name is irrational, it merely serves to increase fear of the thing itself."

"Yes sir, well — Voldemort is going to keep trying to come back, isn't he? I mean, it's clearly possible that he can, so he'll try again, will he not? I mean, he isn't gone, is he?"

"No Harry, he is not. Voldemort left young Professor Quirrell to die, choosing instead to save himself." He scowled. "He was never kind to those who followed him, he shows them as much mercy as he does his enemies. At any rate, Voldemort is not dead, but not being entirely alive either, he can not be killed, at least not through conventional means. I fear that your assessment, though rather daunting when considered fully, is correct. I do not think that Lord Voldemort is finished seeking power and retribution, not by a long margin." Harry scowled, dejected. "Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time - and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

"How did I beat him though?" Asked Harry, confused. "I mean — Quirrell couldn't touch me, that's how I finished him, wasn't it?"

"It was." The headmaster agreed. "Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He did not realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Dumbledore became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he had found his voice again, Harry said, "And the invisibility cloak - you sent it to me, didn't you?"

"I thought you might enjoy it." Said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling briefly. "In hindsight, it may have led you into far more trouble than I had anticipated, but your father left it in my possession before he died, and I thought it prudent that it was returned to you."

"And there's something else..."

"Fire away."

"Quirrell said Snape-"

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, him - Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"

"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something that Professor Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

"What ?"

"Yes... " said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt... I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace..."

Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he stopped.

"Sir, there's one more thing."

"Just the one?" Asked Dumbledore with some amusement.

"Sir, I've been working with Professor Flitwick on duelling." He knew that Dumbledore was aware of this, but felt it only proper to tell him anyways.

"I am aware," the headmaster admitted, "I hear you are doing quite well."

"Not well enough," said Harry, "I need to be able to contend with real wizards, especially if Voldemort is going to keep coming after me."

Dumbledore considered this for several long minutes before he spoke. "Continue your lessons with Professor Flitwick," he told him, "we will continue your progress with Occlumency, as its uses will be of great aid to you. Once we have reached a level where you may advance on your own, I will think more on the matter, and perhaps I will show you a few things myself." His eyes twinkled.

"Thank you sir." Said Harry sincerely, and Dumbledore smiled at him before getting to his feet and taking his leave.

* * *

**June 8th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Hospital Wing.**

**12:03 AM.**

Over the next day, Harry was visited by Ron, Dean and Neville, though the latter returned that night to have a far more private conversation with Harry, having commandeered his invisibility cloak for the journey. Harry didn't mind.

He told Neville everything he knew about Voldemort, and explained in detail the events of the year.

"I'm sorry for keeping it from you." Harry told him honestly. "I just wanted to keep you safe."

"From now on," Neville told him fiercely, "you'll keep me safe by making sure I'm the best I can be with magic; not by keeping secrets from me, deal?"

Harry smiled, taking Neville's outstretched hand in the darkness. "Deal."

* * *

**June 18th 1992.**

**The Hogwarts Express.**

**11:38 PM.**

With no work to do and the threat of Voldemort gone for now, Harry had enjoyed his last ten days at Hogwarts quite a lot. Spending much of it in the company of his three best friends, with the rest of it being spent practicing Occlumency, magic, or with his nose in a book. Those times were limited however, as Harry, though understanding the importance of practice more now than ever, just wanted to enjoy as much stress free time with his friends as possible.

Before he knew it though, he was clambering onto the Hogwarts Express and getting a compartment with the three of his friends, smiling as they all levitated their own trunks up into the overhead compartment.

'How far we have come.'

Harry waited a bit more eagerly than the others as he knew that now was the time for end of year marks to arrive. They were about thirty minutes into a game of chess, in which Harry, being a bit distracted, was performing rather poorly when a prefect opened the compartment door and distributed their end of year results. Harry held his breath as he opened his and his friends rolled their eyes while he couldn't see them.

_Dear Mr. Potter._

_Please find enclosed your end of year marks in all of your classes. Thank you for your hard work this school year and congratulations on your achievements. We are eager to see what is in store next year._

_With regards,_

_Minerva McGonagall._

_Deputy Headmistress. _

He pulled out the sheet of parchment he was looking for as his heart rate sped up.

_Grades and Rankings:_

_Passing Grades:_

_O = Outstanding._

_E = Exceeds Expectations._

_A = Acceptable._

_Failing Grades:_

_P = Poor. _

_D = Dreadful._

_T = Troll._

_Harry James Potter has achieved:_

_Astronomy E+._

_Charms O+._

_Defense Against The Dark Arts O+._

_Herbology O._

_History of Magic O._

_Potions O-._

_Transfiguration O+._

_Overall/Per Subject Rankings for The First Year:_

_Astronomy:_

_1: Granger Hermione, Gryffindor. _

_2: Patil Padma, Ravenclaw._

_3: Patil Parvati, Gryffindor._

_4: Boot Terry, Ravenclaw._

_5: Davis Tracey, Slytherin._

_Charms:_

_1: Potter Harry, Gryffindor._

_2: Greengrass Daphne, Slytherin._

_3: Granger Hermione, Gryffindor._

_4: Patil Padma, Ravenclaw._

_5: Nott Theodore, Slytherin._

_Defense Against The Dark Arts:_

_1: Potter Harry, Gryffindor._

_2: Nott Theodore, Slytherin._

_3: Bones Susan, Hufflepuff. _

_4: Greengrass Daphne, Slytherin._

_5: Longbottom Neville, Gryffindor._

_Herbology: _

_1: Longbottom Neville, Gryffindor._

_2: Greengrass Daphne, Slytherin._

3: Granger Hermione, Gryffindor.

4: Macmillan Ernie, Hufflepuff.

5: Potter Harry, Gryffindor.

History of Magic:

1: Granger Hermione, Gryffindor.

2: Potter Harry, Gryffindor.

3: Boot Terry, Ravenclaw.

4: Li Su, Ravenclaw.

5: Goldstein Anthony, Ravenclaw.

Potions:

1: Greengrass Daphne, Slytherin

2: Granger Hermione, Potter Harry, Gryffindor.

4: Davis Tracey, Slytherin.

5: Malfoy Draco, Slytherin.

_Transfiguration:_

_1: Potter Harry, Gryffindor._

_2: Granger Hermione, Gryffindor._

_3: Thomas Dean, Gryffindor._

_4: Greengrass Daphne, Slytherin._

_5: Nott Theodore, Slytherin._

_Overall Rankings:_

_1: Potter Harry, Gryffindor._

_2: Granger Hermione, Gryffindor._

_3: Greengrass Daphne, Slytherin._

_4: Nott Theodore, Slytherin._

_5: Patil Padma, Ravenclaw._

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. 'I did it.' He thought. 'Three O+'s!'

"You did well then?" Asked Ron, amused.

"I did ok." Said Harry. "It went — OI!" Ron had snatched the sheet out of his hands and was reading it with a look of awe on his face.

"Bloody hell," he muttered as Dean and Neville leaned in to read, "three O+'s? I didn't even think that was possible?"

"Almost all O's too." Said Dean with a smile.

"Except Astronomy." Noted Neville with some amusement.

"I will curse all three of you." Said Harry dryly, to which they all laughed before handing him back his results. "How did you lot do then?"

"Decent," answered Neville, "A's in History and Potions, and E in Astronomy and Charms, an E+ in Transfiguration, an O- in Defense, and an O+ in Herbology.

"Good one!" Said Harry, leaning across to shake hands with the boy. "Except for Potions," he said mockingly, wanting the jab back for Astronomy, "that one's rubbish." Neville made a face at him as he turned to gaze at Dean.

"E's in Herbology, History, Astronomy, Potions and Defense, E+ in Charms and an O in Transfiguration."

"You've always been good at Transfiguration." Said Neville.

"I'm a very visual person," said Dean, who spent a lot of his free time drawing, "I think it helps."

"It probably does," said Harry, who was also quite visual in the ways he thought, though not to the extent of his friend, "with visualization especially." He looked at Ron who sighed.

"A's in Potions, History and Astronomy, E's in Herbology, Transfiguration and Defense, O- in Charms."

"Not bad at all." Said Neville with a smile, but Ron was shaking his head.

"It should be better," he said, "I was lazy. I didn't realize it until now, but I see the marks you two are pulling off." He scowled at Harry. "You don't count." He added pointedly. "You're a freak of nature." Harry winced imperceptibly at Ron's unintentional wording, but the other boy didn't notice. "I'm going to be better," Ron vowed, "you lot deserve someone better than what I did this year, and I'd like to be able to stick it to the twins." He said with a smile.

* * *

**June 18th 1992. **

**King's Cross Station.**

**4:45 PM.**

Harry and his friends were already changed into muggle attire by the time the train pulled into King's Cross station. They all stuck together until they found the first parents — Ron's.

"Ron, oh how good to see you! How was your year?" His mother, a short, plump woman with the same flaming red hair as all of her sons pulled Ron into a fierce hug that made him flush red.

"Mum!" He protested. "Not in front of my friends!"

"Oh hush dear," Said Mrs. Weasley, letting him go to look at the three of them. "You must be Dean, Neville and Harry!" She said, her eyes resting on Harry's forehead for a split second too long as the small girl holding her arm let out a squeak and covered her mouth, causing Ron to roll his eyes. "Ron has told us so much about you three!"

"Good things, I hope," said Harry nervously; this sort of thing made him more than a little bit uncomfortable. He stepped forward and extended a hand in a very polite, yet not quite cultured way; Ron had told them his family wasn't much for that kind of stuff. "Harry Potter, a pleasure to meet you ma'am and thank you very much for the gifts at Christmas."

"Oh, my pleasure dear!" She said, beaming as she clasped Harry's hand tightly. "Ron has said so much about you, so have the twins! You will have to come over this summer!"

"I would be happy to," said Harry, pulling a wrapped package from his pocket and handing it to Mrs. Weasley, "I felt bad that I hadn't gotten you anything, so a very late Merry — or early Merry Christmas to you."

She beamed. "Oh dear, you shouldn't have!" She exclaimed, gasping at the whole host of rich looking baking ingredients in the box. Ron had told him that they were among her favourites to use, but had hinted at the fact that they couldn't really afford them. "Oh my, how much money did you spend on these?"

"Not too much," dismissed Harry with an easy smile, looking a bit down to the girl who was still staring at him. She was probably taller than he had been when he had arrived at the Longbottom's, but she was a few inches shorter than him now, as he had grown quite a bit over the year, despite still being a bit short for his age, he was making progress.

The girl noticed his stare and let go of her mother's arm, stepping hesitantly up to him and extending a shaking hand. "N-n-nice to m-meet you Mr. Potter, my name is Ginny."

Harry smiled, sensing her nervousness and trying to ease it a bit as he took her hand. "Nice to meet you Ginny. Can you do me a couple of favours if it isn't too presumptuous of me to ask?" She looked nervous but nodded frantically. "First," he said with a mock glare at Ron, "make sure to give this idiot hell for me this summer, will you?" Mrs. Weasley had to try very hard not to smile as Ginny burst into a fit of giggles and Ron exclaimed "Oi!" rather indignantly as Neville and Dean cracked up. "Second," he said, causing Ginny to falter before he smiled warmly at her, "call me Harry. Your brother is practically family to me and it's weird for somebody younger than me to call me Mr. Potter. It makes me feel like I'm in trouble." She giggled again and nodded.

"Ok Harry." She said, her stutter gone as she reluctantly let go of his hand and stepped back.

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley with a smile, "it was nice meeting you Harry, Neville, Dean, but I need to find the rest of my sons and be off. You are welcome at our home anytime over the summer, take care. Let's go Ron, Ginny." And they were off.

"Really nice woman," said Neville and Harry nodded.

"Nice girl too," quipped Dean, "pretty too and she has the hots for you Harry, lucky boy." Harry blushed furiously while Dean and Neville started laughing as they made their way through the crowd in search of Augusta, not noticing the greyish blue eyes that followed the trio's raven haired counterpart hungrily, an ominous, vengeful gleam ever present within them.

* * *

**Authors Endnote:**

**Wow! Year 1 in the books and can I just say — this is the most fun I have ever had writing a fanfic! I have genuinely enjoyed every second of it and can not wait until year 2!**

**I apologize for the small cliffhanger, but those who know me probably knew it was coming. **

**There will be no chapters for a few weeks as I need to get more of year 2 pre written. My tentative release date for the first chapter of year 2 would be Sunday Mach 8th, at which point weekly uploads would resume. This date could change if it takes me longer to write year 2 than I am estimating, but if it does, I will post on this story to let you all know so for now, assume March 8th as the release date for year 2!**

**A few quick side notes here at the end. First of all, thank you guys so much for the support on this story, every follow, favourite and review is both noticed and appreciated, and every last one of them means the world to me.**

**Secondly, I know year 1 was quite close to cannon, but the story will stray further and further from it as it progresses; you will begin to notice some massive differences come year 3. **

**Finally, I'm sure many of you have guessed correctly what that last scene meant, so feel free to leave it in a review for those who missed it if you'd like.**

**Thank you guys for all the support on year 1, and I will see you all for year 2!**

**Please read and review.**

**Special thanks goes out to Discord member Corvus Black for his correction.**


	16. LOS Ch 1: The House of Hades

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

* * *

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. An additional thank you goes out to Discord user Hedach for his additional edits.**

* * *

**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

* * *

**Authors Note:**

**So, year 2; here we go! Much of the main plot will be recognizable from CoS, however, there will be some changes and additions to the main plot with some secondary plot points that will come to be game changers over time. As I have said in the past, we will stray further away from cannon as the story progresses.**

* * *

**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

**Harry Potter and The Ashes of Chaos** **by ACI100.**

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming Of Shadows.**

**Chapter 1: The House of Hades.**

* * *

**June 18th 1992.**

**King's Cross Station.**

**5:01 PM.**

Narcissa watched with narrowed eyes as the raven haired boy, along with another that she thought to be the Longbottom heir followed a tall, thin woman towards the floo connections. She sneered at their backs, her eyes not leaving the spot they had stood until she heard a pleasantly familiar voice a few minutes later.

"Mother!"

She turned, smiling widely as Draco neared her at a brisk pace. His friends, the young Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him as the Parkinson heiress hung from his arm. She smiled slightly when Draco extricated himself from the girl to step forwards and hug her tightly. Narcissa's smile widened, reaching down and touseling the boy's perfect blonde hair before finally stepping back from him, examining her son more critically.

"How was the conclusion of your year, Draco?"

"Well enough," he sighed, "our grades came today.."

"And?"

"A's in History and Astronomy. E's in Herbology and Transfiguration. E+'s in Charms and Defense Against The Dark Arts and an O in Potions."

Narcissa pursed her lips as the girl beside him congratulated him.

'Acceptable, but a bit lacklustre.'

"Passable," She decreed, "the Potions mark is excellent, though your marks in at least the practical subjects need to be higher. I will tolerate a low mark in History, though Astronomy should be at least an E. You know that your father's standards will be at least as harsh as mine."

"Yes, mother." Answered Draco, bowing his head in acknowledgement as the girl stepped forward nervously.

"An honour, Lady Malfoy." She gushed, extending a hand nervously. "I am Pansy Parkinson, Heiress of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Parkinson."

Narcissa smiled once more, this time, it was in an attempt to ease the girl's nerves as she took her offered hand. "But I am aware of who you are, Ms. Parkinson. We have spoken on a number of occasions, and Draco thinks very highly of you if his letters are any indication." Draco blushed as Pansy beamed at him.

She glanced towards the other two boys. "Good afternoon Vincent, Gregory. Are your fathers coming for you?"

"We're supposed to floo over from Malfoy manor if that's ok, ma'am."

Narcissa smiled at Gregory, who had spoken. They had spent a fair bit of their childhoods at the manor. It would have baffled her why they continued to address her so formally if she did not already know that their fathers were rather terrified of doing anything that may upset her or Lucius.

"But of course, dears." She glanced at Pansy. "And you, Ms. Parkinson?"

"Mother is supposed to meet me here, I just wanted to greet you and say goodbye to Draco."

Narcissa smiled. "We will wait with you. It would be most improper of me to not assure you made it home safely." She smiled at the surprised yet joyed look on the girl's face.

It only took several minutes for the girl's mother to show up. They exchanged brief pleasantries before Narcissa snapped her fingers and summoned one of the house elves. She almost winced when Dobby appeared in front of them.

'Why Lucius will not let me kill the thing, I do not know.'

"What can Dobby be doing for mistress Cissy and master Draco." Narcissa sneered at the name. He had picked it up from Lucius, no doubt, but she was not so fond of it when coming from the mouth of the vile creature at her feet.

"Ensure that Mr's. Crabbe and Goyle arrive safely at the manor while I take Draco." The elf nodded once, snapping his fingers and causing their trunks to vanish before, without warning, he took hold of one of each of their hands and vanished in a soft snap.

"He is as mad as ever, I see." Commented Draco dryly, causing Narcissa to laugh softly as she took a firm hold on her son's hand.

"Indeed he is." And she turned, pulling them through space and time itself before appearing in one of the sitting rooms with a soft crack. Not a second later, another house elf popped into the room and quickly took Draco's things up to his room. "Sit." Said Narcissa, to which Draco did so immediately and without hesitation.

"Now," she said, "I would like for you to tell me everything that happened this year between yourself and Harry Potter."

* * *

**June 18th 1992.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**6:47 PM.**

It had been quite nice to be back at Longbottom manor and eat in peace with Neville and Augusta. That luxury had lasted approximately until the moment Augusta asked about the rest of their year, prompting Harry and Neville to exchange looks before taking up the tail of Voldemort, Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone. By the time they had finished, Augusta looked livid.

"Dumbledore used a school full of children as a trap for the most dangerous dark lord in a thousand years?!"

Harry winced. "It all would have been worth it if it worked though." He said darkly, causing Augusta to shake her head.

"But by the man's own admission, it did not! And if it hadn't been for you, I would likely be missing my grandson, and by the sounds of it, this Granger girl wasn't walking out of that chamber again either!"

"It might have worked if I hadn't gone after him." Said Harry dryly. "If he just stared into the mirror for that time and tried to figure it out, he might have been trapped within it."

"He wasn't though," said Neville, and of course Harry knew this, as they had already spoken at length about the subject. "He just got Hermione to do it for him."

Harry shook his head. "Do you think he knew what the mirror was?" He asked Augusta.

"It is possible," she mused, "but I doubt it. If he did, he would have at least attempted to break the enchantments on it."

"Why do you think he was so wary of it then?"

Augusta scowled. "Whatever I think of your headmaster, Voldemort was never fond of crossing Dumbledore. I doubt he was actually scared of him as all of Dumbledore's idiotic followers like to claim, but he made a point to never cross Dumbledore if he could avoid it."

"You think he knew it was Dumbledore's test?" Asked Neville.

"Yes," answered Harry at once, "it's exactly the sort of thing Dumbledore would do. It had his fingerprints all over it."

"What now?" Asked Neville, and Harry suddenly remarked at how now, not a year after the boy had been a stuttering mess, his voice barely hitched at all while casually discussing plans to avoid death at the hands of the most dangerous dark lord in a millennia.

"You keep improving!" Barked Augusta sternly. "Both of you!" She added with a look towards Neville. "If you want to be with Harry through this-"

"I do!" Neville said vehemently.

"Than you're going to have to get a damn shot better in a hurry!" Augusta told him bluntly. "Just being good will not be enough, especially if the bastard is so set on coming back. You really will have to live up to your father's name now, and not because it would make them proud, but because it will be your only chance." Her voice became a bit emotional at the end and Harry shot her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"We won't let him come back," he insisted, "we'll find out how he survived somehow. Maybe that's what Dumbledore won't tell me until I'm older. We'll hold him off for as long as we have to, and when we know how to finish him, we will."

He made it all sound so easy and almost felt guilty as Neville nodded along for in his heart, Harry knew this was going to be far more difficult than that. He wouldn't be able to rely on his mother's sacrifice forever.

'Fool me once,' he recalled, 'shame on you, fool me twice — shame on me. I doubt he'll fall for it a third time.'

He had to become better, he could not be the weak boy who could not so much as land a spell on Quirrell. He had to be a match for Voldemort one day, there was no other way.

"How do I improve?" Harry asked hungrily. "Beyond just getting ahead, I mean. We're not supposed to perform magic over the summer."

"Oh," said Augusta with a smile, "I have some connections that might be able to help with both of those problems."

* * *

**June 29th 1992.**

**Athens.**

**Magical Historian's Study.**

**2:43 PM**

"Good afternoon, Mr. Chase." Said Albus Dumbledore with a smile as he took his seat across from the aforementioned Mr. Chase. He was not all that old, looking to be in his early forties at most.

"A pleasure to meet you, Supreme Mugwump Dumbledore." The man said. "I admit, I was surprised when you insisted on meeting me."

"Yes," mused the wizened sorcerer, "I assumed you might be."

"I assume whatever it is you are here for, it isn't small talk?"

Dumbledore chuckled indulgently. "No, I am afraid not." He looked at Mr. Chase head on now, and Mr. Chase had the unnerving feeling of being x-rayed. "You are a historian who specializes in ancient magic, that of Greece in particular?"

"That is correct." The man said, "I'm a half blood who was raised in the muggle world and was always fascinated by Greek mythology. When I learned of the magical world, I wanted to know if all of those stories had their roots in magic." He shook his head. "I'm a bit of an obsessive person and when I went down that rabbit hole," he shook his head for a second time, "well, I still haven't found my way out of it."

Dumbledore smiled briefly but his visage quickly became one of deadly seriousness. "I was wondering then whether or not I may be so bold as to ask you some questions about some of the ancient magic in Greece? In particular, a specific sorcerer?"

"Of course," said the other man, looking almost excited to gush on about what he knew.

'We shall see how long that enthusiasm lasts.'

"I was wondering, in particular, what you could tell me about the man known as Herpo The Foul? As well as any specific stories, locations, or artifacts that still exist with a link to the man?"

Mr. Chase's face darkened considerably. "It had to be him, didn't it?" He asked, sighing at Dumbledore's neutral expression before speaking. "Herpo The Foul as you called him, or to give him his proper name, Herpōn ho deinos was born in Epirus. No one knows when he was born, just that it was some time, and likely quite a long time before the 1270's — BC of course. Not much is known about his childhood, but it is said that he was supremely talented with magic from an early age, showing signs of accidental magic as early as a year old in some legends. You'll know of course that he was born a speaker, or as I believe you call it in Britain, a Parseltongue?"

"Parselmouth, but yes, please continue."

"Yes well, they say he was rather fond of snakes and was really the first to experiment with the ability; testing how far the snake's would go for him, what they could and couldn't do, so on and so forth. Anyways, when he grew older, his mother died in a raid from a nearby village." His face darkened. "Herpo sought revenge by using his talents and he wanted it then and there. He got his licks in, but he was forced to flee when he was overwhelmed by their shear numbers." His eyes darkening further still, the man continued. "He took it as a challenge. It's commonly believed that this is why he created the Basilisk after much practice."

"Yes," mused Dumbledore thoughtfully, "I can see how such a creature would be so potent against a large crowd of combatants. The appeal would certainly have been there."

"Yes, well — the magic it took to create such a creature," he shook his head, "nobody knows what, but a lot of people believe that it took some sacrifices to do it. Some say his sanity was one of them, but either way the end result is the same. He released his basilisk on the village and it massacred the place."

"And this is what led him to become the dark lord he is known as?"

"It was likely the catalyst, but he didn't stop there. Revenge wasn't enough for Herpo; it didn't bring his mother back, so he sought to do that too. He dove deeper into the investigation of the soul than anyone before him ever had." Mr. Chase scratched his head contemplatively. "Some say he succeeded in bringing back his mother. Others say his failed attempts drove him further into insanity; I tend to believe the latter. But either way, he was gaining power and taking over. He wanted knowledge, and he was running through village after village to get it. Taking their tomes, interrogating their wisest men."

"But he died." Dumbledore said flatly.

"Eventually," affirmed Mr. Chase, "funny enough, it comes back to the whole reason I got into this stuff in the first place; its connection with muggle mythology. Well, probably the most famous bit of the Greek muggle's mythology is Heracles." He smiled conspiratorially. "Little did they know, he was no son of a god, just an extremely gifted sorcerer who used wandless magic to aid his physical movements. He ended up killing both Herpo and the basilisk, though it took him seven long years to finish Herpo off. That's why the name is so famous, that's where the muggles got their myths from."

"Fascinating." Gushed Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling merrily as his thoughts raced within his head. "Are there any objects or locations linked to Herpo that are still in a condition that would allow them to be examined? Any of his studies, even?"

"None that the public are aware of." Said the man diplomatically but Dumbledore shook his head, a pleasant smile firmly in place.

"There is a reason I am sitting in front of a historian, Mr. Chase. I do not wish to know the extent of what the public knows. I would like to know what you know, or at least, what you believe."

The man cast a look around the small office, almost as if he was making sure they were not being overheard before he spoke in little more than a whisper. "There is a temple in Epirus known to the muggles as the House of Hades. In muggle mythology, it was called the Necromanteion and ancient Greeks went to lower levels to communicate with the dead." He shook his head. "There have never been lower levels confirmed by muggles or magicals, but it does seem rather fishy to me, and rather convenient it be a temple of death in the home of a dark lord who sought to cheat death itself."

"Curious indeed," mused Dumbledore as he got to his feet. "Well, I must be off. I thank you for your audience, Mr. Chase, it was most enlightening." The man smiled and made to take Dumbledore's hand but before he could, a wand flashed from the man's sleeve and pointed directly between his eyes. "Obliviate." Intoned the Hogwarts headmaster, his voice tinged with sadness and regret as the other man swayed where he stood and slumped back into his chair. "I am sorry, Mr. Chase," said Dumbledore sadly, though he knew the man could not hear him, "there is far too much on the line to leave any loose ends." And he turned, swiftly departing the building to continue his summer exploits.

* * *

**July 2nd 1992.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**8:43 AM.**

It was a rather normal breakfast at Longbottom manor until the pair of owls arrived. Harry had not been expecting any mail, and it was neither Ron nor Dean's owl, which were the only two birds of their kind he had seen so far this summer.

He had spent a good amount of time with Ron, as he had spent several days at the manor. He had yet to go to Ron's home. For some reason, he felt as if his friend was trying to avoid that, but they had spent quite a lot of time together. Dean was harder to connect with, as his parents were muggles, though they did plan to meet up at least a few times over the summer.

When he wasn't hanging around his two friends, Harry was studying obsessively. He had begun to move onto the third year theory work for Transfiguration, memorizing the transfigurations themselves as well. The same went for Charms, though he hadn't got super far into that subjects third year material as of yet. He had ordered a copy of both _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 3 _and _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 4 _to aid him in his foray, something that just made Ron raise his eyebrows. The other boy hadn't realized just how far ahead Harry actually was, though he felt that it may have strengthened his friend's resolve to get ahead.

He had also been diving deep into books from the Longbottom library; books on defensive magic in particular. They were all extremely interesting, though many of the spells were beyond him, and likely almost any Hogwarts student at the moment.

He had, at last, began to read into Arithmancy as well. He had put it off while at Hogwarts, as he had spent almost all of his free time working with actual spells but now, seeing as he couldn't actively cast magic, it seemed as apt a time as ever. The subject was coming very easily to him. He had always been talented with mathematics, having some of the best grades in the subjects his muggle teachers had ever seen, and he found that this translated extremely well into Arithmancy. The selling point for him was the knowledge that it was the primary component to spell creation, something he was more than a little bit interested in.

He was not at that level yet; he wouldn't be for some time, though much of the beginning guides to the subject had their routes in muggle mathematics, so he was able to skip much of the third year material without much issue. He figured he would be at least well into the fourth year curriculum by the time he went back to Hogwarts and he could not wait. Spell creation was something that interested him greatly, though the applications of Arithmancy were far more reaching than just that.

He had continued his Occlumency exercises as well, and now, the world around him was in clear focus as his mind was clear; though multi-tasking was still rather difficult at best.

He had not seen this owl yet though. It was a rather inconspicuous being with sharp, intelligent looking eyes. It landed directly in front of Harry, presenting him its leg with little to no preamble. Harry shot a questioning look at Augusta.

"It's safe." She assured him, looking as though she had an inkling of who may have mailed him.

Mildly comforted Harry reached out, taking the note from the owl and prompting it to fly off quickly. Before Harry could open the envelope, a second, rather official looking owl flew into the dining room through the open window. It too landed in front of Harry, sticking out its leg in a far slower, more satisfied manner. Harry smiled, recognizing the behaviour as something that may have come from his own owl, Hedwig.

"Read that one first." Ordered Augusta and obediently, Harry opened the second letter, his eyes going wide at the contents.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We have received a request on your behalf to grant you an exception to the Under Age Magic Act for exclusive uses of magic in educational settings. Upon further review, we have granted you an exception to this rule from 10:00 AM to 4:00 PM on the weekdays of the summer break._

_Should you be caught abusing these privileges, allow this to serve as your official ministry warning. If our policies are violated, you will be expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_We wish you all the best in your educational studies._

_Regards,_

_Griselda Marchbanks_

_Head of The Magical Education Committee. _

Harry looked at Augusta. "How?" He asked, not seeing how the ministry would have bent such a law.

She smiled. "Griselda is an old friend of mine. I asked a few personal favours." She shook her head. "This exception is to be used outside of the manor, as any magic performed within it is off the radar of the ministry anyway."

"What?!" Harry asked incredulously.

Augusta sighed. "For all of your intelligence and talents, sometimes I forget how little you know. The trace, as the ministry likes to call it, can only detect where magic is cast; not who cast the magic."

"So the trace is pretty much only useful if you're a muggleborn or muggle raised student? It wouldn't even work in public areas, would it?"

"Yes and no," said Augusta, "most parents do not let their children use magic outside of school. Some agree with the decree, others are worried of the repercussions if they were to be caught." She shook her head, a look of disgust marring her features. "That law was passed by purebloods in the Wizengamot generations ago to give their children a leg up. Most traditionalist pureblood families do not enforce it at all. As for being in public; no it wouldn't, but you would be reported to the ministry in seconds, and just a viewing of a memory would be enough for them to cross reference one's appearance with their records and the like."

Harry scowled. "Will you let me and Neville use magic?" He asked, causing Neville to go wide eyed at his boldness.

"I would have already been allowing you to use magic had you known you could have." Neville's eyes went wide at her revelation. "Wipe the surprise off of your face, Neville, it is unbecoming of you, especially while food is in your mouth." Neville quickly snapped his mouth shut. "Of course I will allow you to cast magic! If you are to prepare yourselves as you have told me you intend to. I would be disappointed if you didn't." She turned to Harry. "The exception pertains to the second letter, though it is mainly for the sake of formalities."

Harry took the other letter and opened it. If he had been surprised by the first, he was suitably gobsmacked by the second.

_Potter,_

_I have agreed to help you prepare for the war that is getting closer every day. _

_Don't waste my time; I won't teach someone who doesn't have the work ethic to cut it. _

_I will see you tomorrow afternoon at my home. Use the enclosed portkey no sooner or later than 1:00 PM. _

_The pass phrase is constant vigilance._

_Moody._

Harry stared at Augusta in surprise.

'Another old friend?' He thought, not realizing that the statement was actually the truth. "Like — THE Moody? As in — Mad-Eye Moody?"

"The very same." Affirmed Augusta with a knowing smile. "You said you were determined to prepare. We will see just how determined you are very soon."

* * *

**July 3rd 1992.**

**A Heavily Warded Home in The Country.**

**3:58 PM.**

Harry slumped to the floor once again as the bludgeoner caught him square in the ribs, his wand clattering to the floor for what felt like the hundredth time. If he had thought his lessons with Flitwick had been difficult, he had been deluded.

Within mere seconds of entering his home, Harry had quickly learned that constant vigilance was far more than an activation phrase for the wizened ex auror — it was a way of life. He had made Harry cast every useful spell he knew of for a fight and had been grudgingly impressed. From there, they had spent two hours in non stop mock combat, as Moody wanted to assess him properly before moving onto their future lessons. By the time they had finished, Harry felt as if he had been in a car crash, where as the ex auror looked perfectly at ease. He had not used his more deadly curses, but aside from that, the man, unlike Flitwick, had pulled no punches.

"Impressive for your age." Said Moody with what sounded like grudging respect. "Potential in heaps and if you're mind is as sharp as it seems, maybe even more than that." He smiled; on his gnarled face, it was a rather vicious looking thing. "Maybe in a few years, you might actually be able to hang with me." It was one of the most backhanded compliments Harry had ever received, but coming from the overly strict and harsh legend of the auror department, Harry took pride in it and vowed to be not just hanging with, but beating Moody in a few years. "But not unless you practice more than just magic. You need CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Harry flinched.

"First things first," said Moody, "you need to be casting silently. There's no way around it!"

Harry gaped at him. 'I'm eleven!'

"Wipe that look off of your face boy! Nothing that I just said will be possible if you can't cast silently; I don't give a hippogryph's rear end how old you are!" He scratched his chin. "In order to cast a spell without an incantation, you have to know the spell. Know your intent, know your desired results more clearly than ever and you have to WILL IT to happen. It takes a strong will to do, but you've got to learn it." Harry nodded, his determination growing by the second. "You'll practice that on your own." Decided Moody. "While you're with me, we'll work on fighting. Combat scenarios, the importance of planning and obviously," he smiled again, "add some weapons to your repertoire." He offered a hand to Harry which he took gratefully, not expecting to have a wand jabbed at him and be thrown ten feet backwards. "What did I say?!" Boomed Moody. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

'Damn, this is gonna be harder than I thought.'

* * *

**July 25th 1992.**

**Epirus.**

**The House of Hades.**

**11:38 PM.**

It had taken several long weeks to find what Mr. Chase had referred to as "The House of Hades." Once, there had been a temple above the ground, and if myths were to be believed, it led down to the famed lower levels where it was said that the Ancient Greeks had communicated with the dead. Now though, the temple in question was long destroyed, and finding an entrance was not easy; not even for the man who was commonly referred to as the greatest sorcerer alive.

Finally, after weeks of looking, Dumbledore had finally come across traces of magic. They were weak, left to decay over thousands of years but they were still present. Magic never truly faded, and though magic like this would take a true master to detect, it was still there for the taking.

Once he had found the source of the magic, it had not been overly difficult to track it to the hill he currently stood at the crest of. A bit above him, atop the hill was a cluster of scattered ruins that looked to be nothing impressive, scattered around the limestone remains of what looked to have once been buildings. That was, if one ignored the odd, greyish glow around it, a glow that Dumbledore knew to be residual magic.

'Certainly not of the lighter variety at that.'

Dumbledore approached the ruins carefully, tracing The Elder Wand through the air in an elaborate pattern as he went, muttering in a strange language as he did so. As he neared the top of the hill, there was suddenly a shimmer as a barrier of golden light made itself visible for merely a second upon the conclusion of Dumbledore's chanting. He frowned, lightly bringing the very tip of his wand up against the ward before continuing his odd muttering. Several minutes later he sighed, taking from his pocket a silver dagger and promptly slicing his hand, allowing the blood to fall at the edge of the wards.

The golden light flared even brighter than before, and Dumbledore stepped across the ward unharmed, examining the ruins of what must have been, according to his research, The Necromanteion. He walked around the ruins for minutes on end. As he did so, he was muttering, casting, and tracing his wand through the air. He even touching some of the ruins before finally, he smiled, casting a revealing charm on a blank patch of ground to reveal the remains of what looked to have been a wall obstructing a clear path into what appeared to be a man — or magic made ditch of some sort. He raised his wand, lighting its tip and casting light into the crevice where he could see the outline of a stone door leading straight into the hill.

'Quite ingenious for its time.' He thought, rather impressed that a sorcerer who had lived so long ago had managed to ward this place so well.

'It does not bode well.' He noted internally, stepping into the ditch with surprising grace for an old man as he unlocked the door with a flick of his wand.

'That was far too easy. 'Not a strong effort at keeping me out. He must have been rather confident that I would not be able to leave.'

With that cheerful thought, Dumbledore stepped through the door.

The door led into a narrow tunnel that seemed to slope gently downwards forever, with its ceiling supported by pale marble arches. At the end of the tunnel was a massive boulder, seeming to obstruct the way ahead. Dumbledore frowned, not needing magic to know what he had to do. He took out his knife again, cutting his palm for a second time before spattering his blood on the rock, causing it to vanish and for a spiraling staircase to appear behind it. The staircase led him further down into the earth, and the arches suddenly changed from marble to refined black stone.

Dumbledore had to applaud the dark lord from the past. If not for the point me charm, one that had not been invented until over a millennia after Herpo's time, he feared that this trek may have been impossible. The stairs kept splitting into two and three routes, and with the help of the aforementioned charm, Dumbledore spent almost an hour weaving his way through interconnecting tunnels with dusty nitches that may once have held bodies. Finally, Dumbledore reached an archway that looked as if it had been carved from human skulls which, considering who had constructed this place if Mr. Chase had been correct, and by now, he was sure he had been; that was a legitimate possibility.

The empty eye sockets seemed to blink at him, but Dumbledore remained unphased. He could feel the magic emanating from behind the door. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. Dumbledore could hear what sounded like disembodied whispers. He had caught a bit of it earlier but they were stronger now, louder, more insistent, though still not clear enough to truly make out.

As he plunged still deeper underground, the corridors grew wider as the ceilings suddenly became higher. For most men, the space may have served as a reassurance, but for Dumbledore, all that he could think of were the tactical disadvantages of so much empty space and so many blind corners.

"Albus?"

Dumbledore froze for a moment, eyes widening at the voice he had not heard in nearly a century. His mind knew it was a trick, knew that the dead could not possibly rise, but the voice of his sister was one that he had not heard in many years, and he could not help but turn towards the source of it.

He saw nothing, but the voice spoke again.

"You must be better, Albus. You must not fail again."

Dumbledore felt a stab of pain in his chest as he turned in all directions. At first he saw nothing but then, a second later, he saw a flicker somewhere off to his right. He knew it was a trick, knew it was impossible but even so, after a century of waiting, he could not help but call her name in little more than a whisper.

"Ariana?"

From the darkness, a short, slim figure shimmered into existence, looking much like one who had just lifted the disillusionment charm. She looked exactly how Albus remembered her; small and young, with her long, thin blonde hair falling over one shoulder and her eyes, the same deep blue eyes that greeted him every morning in the mirror looking up at him. In the same vein however, she was different, oh so different.

Those eyes held none of the innocence that Dumbledore remembered them containing. Instead, those eyes held within them the shadow of a person who had seen far too much. On the flip side of the coin, she looked physically healthier. She was, at the very least, much less fragile looking in death than she had been in life.

"Albus." She returned, her voice holding no true emotion.

"You are not real," Albus said, his voice shaking in a Most uncharacteristic manner. "You are simply a figment of my imagination. An imprint of the magic manifesting within my head."

Ariana just smiled. "So what if I am in your head? Why would that mean that I am not real." Albus let that sink in. He tried, at least subconsciously, to solidify his Occlumency barriers, to clear his mind, but it was to no avail.

With no mental shields to speak of, Albus felt the dam that had built up inside him for over a hundred years begin to crack and though it terrified him, he could do little more than give in.

"Ariana, I am sorry. I am so, so sorry."

Ariana shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest before her eyes flicked down to the wand that still rested within his shaking hand. "Why?" She asked, suddenly sounding much more like the ever curious child that Albus remembered her as.

"Why?" He asked incredulously. "Ariana, I could provide you with a thousand reasons why. For you, for our mother, for what has become of my relationship with Aberforth…"

"But you got what you wanted in the end." She noted, her voice still completely neutral.

"I do not-"

"Oh Albus, you were always the smart one; you can do better than that." She pointed a dainty hand towards the long, dark wand still shaking within Albus's grasp. "The Death Stick, The Wand of Destiny, of Eternity, The Elder Wand, whatever you like to call it; you are now its true master."

"Ariana, I never-"

"You wanted to rule," she continued, "you were so sure that you knew best." For the first time, her voice slipped just an octave away from true neutrality, a touch of frost creeping into her melodic tones. "You wanted power, you wanted to rule, you wanted control — you have it now."

"Ariana, I do not-"

"Not in the way you dreamed of, but does the minister not refer to you above all others? Do you not influence generation after generation through your school? Do you not do your utmost best to steer the youths of the world towards your greater good?"

"Don't!" Protested Albus, his voice akin to the cry of a wounded animal.

"Don't what?" Ariana asked, her visage of neutrality slipping further and further to the wayside by the moment. "Don't mention the philosophy you crafted alongside that monster?"

"I didn't-"

"Didn't know of Grindelwald's intentions? Didn't know what he would become? Didn't speak of the Hallows knowing full well that the wand meant to him a weapon with which he could strike down any in his way? Did not know that to him, the stone represented little more than an unstoppable, never ending army of inferi?"

"I was a fool!" Conceded Dumbledore, his wand clattering to the floor as tears began to spill down his wrinkled cheeks. "I was a fool who gave into temptation, who gave into the most powerful magic of them all. Grindelwald… he was more to me than you could ever have imagined. I let that vision, more than any other blind me from what was right."

"But you haven't really changed, have you?" Asked Ariana, causing Albus to stagger as if he had been physically struck.

"W-what?"

"You hoarded knowledge like no other. You and Grindelwald turned that knowledge into weapons, weapons for your own greater good." She ignored the horrible flinch that came from her brother. "You have not changed." She reaffirmed. "You understand some magics now better than ever, but you still choose to weaponize them. You still choose to use them for your greater good, even at the expense of a child."

"I do not plan for anything to be at Harry's expense." Albus pleaded with his sister.

"You do not? You wish to weaponize a child. You wish to use the love that saved him as a weapon in and of itself."

"He would be on the frontlines no matter my involvement!" Tried Albus.

"True," conceded Ariana, "but that does not mean he would die at the hands of The Dark Lord."

"He will not," said Albus as confidently as he could manage, "the sacrifice — it will protect him."

Ariana laughed, but the laughter was far colder than Albus ever remembered. "As I said, you have not changed. You still believe yourself cleverer than the rest despite so much evidence to the contrary. You think yourself so high and mighty that you underestimate your foes the same way you underestimated your friend." She shook her head, clear disgust written upon her face. "What will happen when Tom Riddle overcomes that sacrifice? What will happen when Riddle himself seeks to weaponize that branch of magic as well? You know he will; it is in his nature to try."

"He does not understand-"

"No, he does not, but you fail to see the damage he could cause even without that understanding because you refuse to accept that he is as clever as you." She glared at him. "Think on this, Albus, for if you do not, The Dark Lord will not be your only worry, as your own saviour may well turn against you."

"Harry would not-"

"Would not turn against the man who kept secrets from him for years? Not even if those secrets led him into a life or death altercation with his parents' murderer?" She scowled. "A third example of your mistakes. Remember what happened the last time you cared more for a loved ones happiness than their life."

With that dagger, one that caused Albus to fall to his knees, the spirit faded slowly from existence, leaving Albus to sob uncontrollably for several minutes before finally, after slowly calming himself down, he raised his head, grabbed his fallen wand, and slowly clambered his way back up to his feet.

'Perhaps he did come close to raising the dead?'

He advanced forwards into a rather ominous room. Tunnels led off in every direction but it was the floor that caught his attention and warranted his disgust. It was hune together from countless human bones and priceless gems, all twisted together to form a smooth, mosaic like surface.

He made to cast the point me spell again, but before he could, he felt an unmistakable feeling of impending danger as suddenly, the room was crawling with a magic that he had indeed felt before. Magic he had felt only once in person, and that had been within the walls of Nurmengard on that fateful day all those years ago.

'Well, the trap has been sprung.'

From every tunnel marched what appeared to be hundreds of walking corpses, though Dumbledore knew they were far more than they appeared. He brandished his wand, sending a wall of red hot flames billowing towards the nearest herd of them but they did not so much as slow down. The old sorcerer's eyes went wide as he tried again, poring more magic into the spell, but he still only managed to achieve the same result. With the thoughts of Nurmengard on his mind, he pulled from his arsenal a spell that he had never thought he would see again; one that had been used against him and his allies quite frequently during the war, and one that he, in his youthful ignorance he had helped to create.

"Imperium Caeli!"

He slashed his wand towards the nearest heard of them, causing a faint visible distortion in the air as the very element solidified and cleaved the herd clean in two, slicing through one after another as if the air was a knife being sliced through butter. He felt the Elder Wand tremble in his grasp, as if it were a child on a sugar rush who wanted more.

'It wishes to be unleashed.'

Unfortunately, the inferi began to mend instantly. Dumbledore knew that if he used the more powerful variant of the spell, literally moulding the element into a weapon with a singular purpose, he could likely do so much damage they could never mend. He knew also though that if he took this course of action, the drain on his magic may very well leave him unconscious. Not even Gellert at his boldest had used such a spell without being certain it would be the last bit of magic he would have to cast. There was only one other option he could think of, and he hated himself for the very idea of using it; for he had sworn so many years ago he would never let such magics tempt him again.

'It is the only way.' He decided grimly. 'I am sorry Ariana, the method is crude, but I shall not fail you.

"FIENDFYRE!" He roared, thrusting The Elder Wand into the air and feeling power the likes of which he had not experienced in years flow through his arm as the wand rejoiced at its freedom. Finally its leash had been cut after all these years. Finally, it was being allowed to do what it was created to do in the first place— cause utter death and destruction.

The emerald green flames billowed from the wand. They seemed to cackle as they did so, swirling in the air in front of him as they began to consume the inferi surrounding him. Slowly and deliberately, the fire correlessed into the visage of a phoenix as it burned away every last trace of the undead that had littered the room and the tunnels moments earlier. Dumbledore could feel the floor crumbling underneath him as the fire burned away at the bone that had crafted it. Taking a risk, Dumbledore directed the fire straight at the floor, slashing his wand to dispel the flames at the last moment as the surface on which he stood collapsed, prompting him to hastily cast Arresto Momentum and land softly on the floor of a far different, far more ornate room a moment later.

'At last.'

The walls were encrusted with gems and no tunnels led off of this room. It was low ceilinged and rather plain looking aside from the priceless gems that adorned the walls and of course, the golden coffin that stood on a raised pedestal in the center of the room. Dumbledore sighed, flicking his wand and causing the coffin to open, revealing the still pristine body of a rather serpentine looking man with a small, leather bound scroll clasped between his hands and resting on his chest.

* * *

**Authors Endnote:**

**Well, that was an interesting chapter that went in a direction I doubt anybody anticipated.**

**If you have read the Percy Jackson and The Olympians and more particularly, The Heroes of Olympus series, you will recognize this chapter as being crafted around the location that the climax of the fourth book in the latter series took place in. **

**I own none of it of course; that setting is the exclusive property of Rick Riordan. **

**This will NEVER be a crossover of any sort, I just liked the idea and thought it could tie fairly well into the story.**

**Bonus points if anyone can guess where the whole Herpo The Foul thing is going.**

**Please read and review. **

**PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, March 15th 2020 and approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	17. LOS Ch 2: Mysteries and Mishaps

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

* * *

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. An additional shoutout goes to Discord user Hedach for his additional corrections.**

* * *

**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

* * *

**Authors Note:**

**There is a Gringotts scene in this chapter, but there are no cliches involving Harry taking head of ten houses or anything of that sort, so you can all drop your preconceived concerns.**

* * *

**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe **

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.

**Parseltongue. **

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 2: Mysteries and Mishaps. **

* * *

**July 31st 1992.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**8:13 AM.**

Harry stumbled out of his bed on Friday morning feeling rather groggier than usual. He had been having odd dreams the last few nights, dreams that always involved odd underground tunnels, though he never seemed to remember them upon his awakening. Knowing it was a Friday, Harry quickly stumbled into the shower, wanting to make himself presentable and make sure that he was more than ready by 1:00 that afternoon, the time that had become the norm for his sessions with Moody every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

The sessions had gone well so far in Harry's mind in terms of progression. Already he could see quite the difference in their duels, and though he had yet to best the ex auror or even come close, just last Monday he had opened a gash on the man's face with a well placed cutting curse. He had still been battered around almost every practice, but Harry knew such things were necessary if he were to fulfill his potential and have any chance at all at stopping Voldemort's return to power.

He had yet to master non verbal casting despite hours of practice but he could feel, just feel that it was coming along.

He had advanced quite well in his school subjects, managing the cheering charm without much issue and he figured he was already nearing the third year Easter Holidays in terms of progress in Transfiguration. Arithmancy too was coming along well, and he had decided to devote himself to a little project. Loathe as he was to admit it, Quirrell's trap with the parchment, parchment that seemed to be able to communicate messages back and forth between two people at will had been rather ingenious, and Harry quite liked the idea of having instant lines of communication with his friends. The Arithmancy of such things was fairly complex but he was working through it slowly. The actual enchanting bit — well, that was something he would have to look into once he actually knew what enchantments were needed in the first place.

He quickly made his way downstairs after a rather long shower, figuring he would go flying for a while to jolt his body awake. He would make sure he was prepared for 1:00; if he wasn't, he could only imagine how poorly the session would go for him and his health.

It came to Harry as a great surprise when he entered the room and made to greet Augusta and saw Neville too sitting at the table.

'He's up before nine? What's the occasion?'

"Good morning Harry, and Happy Birthday!" Said Augusta brightly, causing Harry's mouth to fall open.

'Oh, I suppose that would be the occasion.'

How he had managed to forget his own birthday was a mystery to him, but he smiled appreciatively at the two of them. Him forgetting such an occasion would have made sense even a year ago but now, they had planned for this day all summer. He and Neville would be having a shared party, inviting over Ron, Dean and the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Neville had also saved his presents from the day before and the gesture left Harry oddly touched. Last night they had eaten all of Neville's favourites and the three of them had spent most of the day together, but aside from that, the festivities had been saved until later today.

Harry smiled. "Cheers, mate!" He said with genuine happiness, taking a seat across from his brother in all but blood. "No session with Moody today then, right?" He asked, wanting to make sure. It would be a rather nasty shock to assume he did not and find out he did; those sessions were something he always tried to enter as mentally braced and prepared as possible.

"Correct," said Augusta with a smile, "I owl'd him a couple of days ago. He wishes you a happy birthday and sends his regards."

"Nothing about watching my back or constant vigilance?" Harry asked, more than a little bit sceptical.

Augusta's lip twitched. "There may have been a bit of that too, yes."

Speaking of owls, one flew in through the open window and landed on the table, sticking out its leg to Harry. It looked similar to the one that had arrived weeks earlier courtesy of the ministry, but this one looked somehow more regal. Harry reached out and took the envelope, seeing an emblem adorning it that he did not recognize.

"Gringotts." Clarified Augusta, walking behind Harry to inspect the letter over his shoulder.

Harry opened the envelope and read the letter quickly, his eyes widening as his heart skipped a beat at what lay in his lap.

_Heir Potter,_

_It is my esteemed duty as your account manager to inform you that as of today; July the thirty-first 1992, you are eligible to bare witness to the reading of your parents' will, as the document specified it would be read no sooner than your twelfth birthday. _

_Please note that if you do not come in the next thirty days, the will shall be read without you and you will be mailed a summary of its contents. _

_Pleasant business as always, _

_Rodnuk._

Harry looked up at Augusta questioningly, a tumult of emotions crashing through him in that moment.

"It would be best to go as soon as possible." Decided Augusta before her voice became a bit softer. "If you are prepared to hear it, of course."

"Now?" Harry asked, his voice more hopeful than shaky, though it was a bit of the latter to be certain.

"If you wish." She acquiesced with a sad smile.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath, clearing his mind of the emotions that threatened to overtake him as he nodded slowly. They all stood, and Harry glanced questioningly at Neville. "You don't have to come." He told his friend, but Neville shook his head fiercely.

"I want to be there for you!" He said defiantly, and Harry felt an odd warmth in his chest that he was still rather unaccustomed to.

"They will not let us in the room." Warned Augusta, but Neville shrugged.

"That doesn't matter," he said, "I only need to be there."

Harry smiled at Neville, trying and likely failing to push all of his gratitude for the other boy through one simple facial expression.

* * *

**July 31st 1992.**

**Gringotts Wizarding Bank.**

**9:04 AM.**

Harry had only been to the bank one time before, and he could not help but be equally as entranced as the first time he had been here. The bank really was a work of art, and something about the inscription upon its doors still sent a tingle down his spine. It was far less busy now than it had been mid day a year ago, as much of the populace would not be perusing the alley for a couple more hours still. Harry, Neville and Augusta walked confidently up to a goblin and this time, mercifully, Harry was armed with his key.

He cleared his throat in much the same way Augusta often did to get someone's attention, summoning up every bit of confidence he could muster as he straightened his posture and held his chin high in the way he had been taught. The goblin did not bother glancing up. "What is your business today?" The creature asked indifferently.

"I would like to meet with my account manager regarding the will of my parents."

"And who is your account manager?" The goblin asked, still examining whatever documents held his attention.

"Rodnuk." Harry answered casually, causing the goblin's head to snap up as his eyes roved hungrily over him.

"So it is," he said with a nod, "you will be required to submit your key as proof of identity, Mr. Potter, as you are a rather high ranking client of ours and we take the security of our profitable customers quite seriously."

'I'll bet you do.' Noted Harry with some amusement. He had no idea how much the goblins took from the profit of a family's investments via taxes, but if Augusta's ranting was anything to be taken seriously, it was quite a lot.

Harry produced his key without a second thought, quickly handing it to the goblin who examined it carefully. "All seems in order." He declared, standing from his stool. "Your accomplices may come with us, but they will be unable to enter the meeting room itself." Harry nodded, being well aware of this as he followed the goblin, vaguely aware of Neville and Augusta trekking on behind him through the maze of corridors that led to the same oak polished door that Harry had stood in front of more than a year earlier. Just like then, he waited several minutes for the goblin to speak with Rodnuk; though the wait certainly did not take as long as the first time he had visited. When the creature exited, it inclined its head respectfully towards Harry.

"May your business be fruitful." It said curtly, making its way back through the maze of corridors, doubtlessly wishing to return to whatever monotonous paperwork it had been attending to upon their arrival.

Harry took a deep breath, receiving encouraging glances from both Neville and Augusta and shooting them each a reassuring smile as thanks before he stepped forward into the familiar office, clearing his mind of all emotion as best he could while he did so.

"Heir Potter," greeted the goblin neutrally once the door had shut and Harry had taken a seat, "I admit myself impressed by your punctuality."

He shrugged. "I gain nothing from waiting, do I?"

"No," answered the goblin archly, "you do not." He opened his drawer and began to file through the papers within. "I assume that you are here for the last will and testament of your parents?"

"Yes." Harry answered, hardly breathing as Rodnuk pulled a sealed document from the drawer and tapped an odd glass orb that rested on his desk with a long, sharp nailed finger.

"Let this be recognized as the official will reading for the deceased Lord James Fleamont Potter and his lady, Lily Potter nee Evans. The date is the thirty-first of July nineteen-ninety-two and the most directly influenced party is in attendance."

He broke the seal on the document and began to read the required legal jargon. Harry understood most of it, though he mainly spaced out, choosing to focus more on his Occlumency. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed the will was in writing and not memory, as he would have liked to truly see his parents for the first time, but suspected very strongly that such an occurrence may very well leave him a mess. Finally the goblin cleared his throat, clearly using the gesture as a subtle way of drawing Harry's attention before he made to speak but his eyes went wide, nearly bulging out of his head.

"L-let this serve as our written testament to the fact that Sirius Orion Black did not serve as our secret keeper and should be acquitted of the guilt if it has been placed upon him." The goblin seemed stunned into silence for a long moment before continuing. "The true secret keeper was Peter Pettigrew, and if this is being read in the at all near future, he should take Sirius's blame if any has been placed upon him." The goblin tapped the orb with his finger again to pause the recording and rubbed his temples furiously.

"What does it mean when it speaks of a secret keeper?" Harry asked, feeling as if he had missed vital context somewhere as judging by the goblin's reaction, something that was not given lightly, that had been a rather large revelation.

It appraised him for a moment before speaking. "The only applicable scenario I can think of would be matters concerning the fidelius charm."

"Which is?" Prompted Harry.

"A charm designed to hide the place, object or concept it is cast upon completely and without fail." The goblin explained. "It is an extremely powerful piece of magic and is notoriously difficult for your kind to cast. It has never been made public that your parents were under this charm, though this document seems to imply that they were."

Harry felt confusion and spoke, trusting his voice to stay steady only because of his still clear mind. "If they were under a charm so fool proof, how did Voldemort find them?"

The goblin hissed at the name but answered anyways. "That is where the part of secret keeper comes into play; no bit of magic is infallible. The magic is bound to a chosen person who remains the only person capable of parting with the location. Any who are not privy to the secret could stare directly at the place and see nothing at all."

Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "So their secret keeper betrayed them to Voldemort?"

"I see no other possibility," answered Rodnuk, "though your ministry would know better than us."

"How come I have never heard of Sirius Black or Peter Pettigrew?" He asked.

'Clearly they were important if one was chosen as secret keeper and the other must have been believed to have been chosen.'

He had seen the name Sirius Black in a copy of his genealogy book from last summer he remembered, but had never thought the name would mean anything to him.

The goblin sneered. "That would be because Sirius Black is serving a life sentence in Azkaban and Peter Pettigrew is dead."

Harry's jaw fell open before a piece clicked in his mind. "We need to get Black released," he said, "he clearly isn't guilty." But Rodnuk was shaking his head, a rather cruel smile gracing his lips.

"Sirius Black did not go to Azkaban for betraying the Potters." He noted. "Though I suppose now, we can say the fact likely did not help his legal case."

Harry frowned. "What did he go to Azkaban for then?" He asked as dread filled him.

"The murder of Peter Pettigrew and thirteen muggles." Deadpanned Rodnuk, and Harry felt his jaw fall open.

'Well shit.' He thought.

"Oh." He said eloquently, causing the goblin to smirk.

"It seems that the murder of Pettigrew may have been out of cold blood, but even if that was to be forgiven by your ministry, which would not happen, he would still spend the rest of his life in that prison for the murder of those muggles."

"What if they were just caught in the crossfire?" Harry asked.

"Possible," conceded the goblin, "though there is no way to be sure and it would be impossible to prove."

'Boy do I have a lot to tell Augusta later.'

"Shall we continue, Heir Potter?" Harry nodded, forcefully clearing his mind of the myriad of questions that plagued him as he tried to continue being attentive to the creature reading in front of him.

* * *

**July 31st 1992.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**1:04 PM.**

The rest of the will reading contained no shocking revelations concerning mass murderers. It was the standard affair. The Potters had left a few million galleons to Peter Pettigrew, though the man could hardly claim it because he was dead, and at any rate, the money was conditional on the fact that they did not die as a result of a violation of his duty as secret keeper. The rest of the Potters sizeable fortune was left to Harry and Harry alone. He did not know how much that fortune entailed, and he would not until he was either seventeen or somehow emancipated early, but he didn't really care. It had just been touching to hear his parents tell him that they loved him and wanted him to succeed above all other things. Mind you, it probably wasn't the same in writing as it would have been to actually hear it, but Harry had to focus quite hard on keeping the emotions below the surface nonetheless.

He had wanted to tell Augusta about the revelations concerning Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, as well as ask her what she knew of both men, but the time really hadn't presented itself and it wouldn't for the duration of the day. At present, Harry and Neville waited in the entrance hall of Longbottom Manor for Ron and the Gryffindor Quidditch team to arrive via the floo network and Dean via side along apparition with Augusta for Harry and Neville's conjoined birthday party.

Oliver, always punctual as he was, arrived first to no surprise from Harry.

"Harry!" He beamed, stepping forward and clasping his hand tightly. "Great to see you mate! How's your summer been so far? Managed to get much practice in?" Harry had to fight the urge to wince. With everything else going on since the near return of Voldemort, he had spent little to no time in the air on his broom.

"A little," he answered, forcing himself to smile as ruggedly as he could manage, "probably not as much as some other maniacs I could think of."

Oliver grinned. "No, probably not."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oliver Wood, meet my best friend, Neville Longbottom. Neville, meet Oliver Wood, maniacal trainer, obsessive planner, apparently quite the chick magnet if the rumour mill is to be believed, and the esteemed captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team." Wood mock bowed as if he were on stage before shaking hands with Neville.

"Nice to meet you, mate and happy birthday to you as well!" Said Oliver with an easy smile. "Summer going well?"

"It's gone very well, thank you." Said Neville, and Harry marvelled at the easy confidence in his friend's voice, confidence that had been completely non-existent not all that long ago.

'He has come so far.'

At that precise instant, the flames roared once more and Ron staggered out of the fire, managing to stay upright on landing, though it had been a near miss.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oliver, meet the idiot of a pureblood who's been using the floo since birth and still hasn't quite figured out what the hell he's doing." Oliver and Neville laughed and Ron rolled his eyes, though he too was grinning rather broadly.

"Ron Weasley!" Ron introduced himself enthusiastically. "I've heard loads about you from my brothers."

Oliver smirked. "I'll bet you have." He said smugly. "A Weasley, eh? Any thoughts on playing Quidditch? You have excellent genetics for it."

Ron blushed a bit. "Uh — yeah, I'd really like to, but there won't be an opening on the team for quite awhile, will there?"

"No, I s'ppose not." Said Oliver with a shrug. "But you could always be a reserve and practice with us to make sure that Gryffindor stays strong once me and the girls have left."

Ron's face brightened. "Yeah," he mused, "yeah, alright, I'll try out for reserve."

Wood snorted. "You can have the spot. We probably won't need one and not many will bother trying out for a spot that probably won't get playing time. Besides," he added with a smile, "like I said, you have excellent genetics."

"Too right, Oli!" Boomed a jovial voice from the fire as Fred — or George stepped through with far more grace than their younger brother.

"Yeah," said another voice a second later as the other twin stepped out of the flames, "not quite the best in the family though!"

"Too right brother dear; we're still much more talented and infinitely better looking."

"We'll see who's better looking if you lot don't shut up." Muttered Ron under his breath and Harry smirked.

The girls arrived next, with Dean being apparated via side along with Augusta not long after. Dean had been the hardest person to get to the party as his parents were both muggles and reasonably wanted to be sure that everything would be ok. After a few letters had been exchanged with Augusta they had agreed, and she had told them it would be no problem for her to get Dean to the manor and back to his home afterwards.

They all took to the sky for a game of five a side Quidditch. Even Neville, who had been terrified of the mere idea of flying less than ten months ago joined in, and Harry was surprised when, though far from what he would call good, Neville actually turned out to be fairly competent.

They spent several hours playing Quidditch until finally, jovial and exhausted, the lot of them made their way into the manor and began to just talk amiably and play exploding snap. They shared stories of their summer, growing up, minus Harry, and talked about the upcoming year at Hogwarts.

Finally, Augusta called them all down for dinner where a heaping feast of both Harry's and Neville's favourites were laid out in front of them, and the two boy's smiled at one another, silently communicating that they would need to thank the elves for a job well done later.

Harry nearly jumped a foot into the air when he felt a spell slam into his chest and he staggered backwards, his wand flying out of his hand as he turned and his mouth almost fell open when he saw Moody sitting beside Augusta.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" He thundered, making everybody minus Harry, who had known that line was coming as soon as he saw the man jump. "Always on guard, Potter." He admonished. "There are some that would turn such harmless occasions into opportunities."

"Good to see you too." Quipped Harry with a grin as Moody tossed him back his wand. In truth, Harry was shocked to see the man at all, though he supposed he was likely using the occasion as an excuse to catch up with Augusta, something that both had told him was much needed. "Everybody, this is the psychopath that has spent the summer torturing me. I'd like you all to meet Mad-Eye-Moody." Ron and the twins gaped at the man while the others introduced themselves.

"Arthur Weasley's boys, aren't you?" Asked Moody gruffly as he shook hands with Ron and the twins once they had recovered from meeting one of their idols.

"Yes sir," answered Ron, "he speaks very highly of you."

Moody nodded, seeming satisfied by the fact. "Good man, your father. Did his part and more during the last war against You-Know-Who. Tell him hello from old Moody for me, will you?" The three boys nodded and everyone took their seats and dug into the feast laid out in front of them.

When they had finally plowed their way through as much of the mountainous feast as they could, Augusta called upon the house elves to bring her the presents for both Harry and Neville.

Neville, as his birthday was first opened up his. He had gotten mostly sweets from the Quidditch team as they had not known him overly well. Ron, ever the Quidditch finnatic had elected to get Neville a Tutshill Tornados jersey, as that was Neville's favourite team. Dean had drawn him a beautiful picture of Harry, himself, Ron and Neville lounging out at the lake. Augusta's gift was predictable, but no less spectacular as a result of the fact. She had bought Neville a variety of extremely rare, extremely expensive magical seeds, He had got a very rare book on Mediterranean plants from Moody that made his face light up, "Got it off an old friend of mine in the last war." Moody had said with a rare smile after seeing the joyful look on Neville's face, and finally, a book on practical defensive magic from Harry that he also appreciated a fair bit. He had been practicing a host of spells and tactics with Harry, and privately, Harry thought the boy would be a force to be reckoned with in Defense this year.

As for Harry, Angelina bought him a book on Transfiguration, as she knew he was interested in the subject after he had asked her some questions about it last year. Alicia bought him a huge package of HoneyDukes Chocolate as once she had heard that Harry had never had it before, she had loudly proclaimed that such a thing was a travesty. Katie had bought him some Quidditch memorabilia that he whistled appreciatively at. The twins bought him a variety of pranking goods once more.

"You need to get on your game, Harikins!" Admonished Fred.

"Yeah," said George, "you have a legacy to uphold. Your father holds the record for most detentions in a year. Even we haven't come close to breaking it!" Augusta's lips tightened sternly for a second but Harry could have sworn she was withholding a smile.

Oliver had got him a poster of the English national team signed by Harry's favourite player and the man who was unanimously regarded as the best seeker in the world at that moment and widely talked about as the best ever — Joseph Parker. Harry's jaw fell open at that one.

'How the hell did Oliver get this?'

Dean had also made Harry a hand drawn painting that was almost perfectly realistic. It was of him in mid dive after the snitch, his hand outstretched towards it, his face one of complete and utter determination. Ron had got him a book on his favourite team, Puddlemere United, as well as some of his mum's homemade mint fudge since Harry had raved about it after Christmas. Hagrid too had sent Harry a gift, a book on dangerous and rare magical creatures.

Another well wrapped package awaited Harry, and when he read the short note he smiled, recognizing both the handwriting and manner of speaking.

_Potter,_

_Seeing as I am sure you are missing me terribly at the moment, I decided to give you something to remind you of my brilliance, as well as something to make up for the fact we never quite got to Runes at the end of last year._

_Happy Birthday, we will speak once school starts up again._

_Don't miss me too much,_

_Daphne. _

Enclosed were two books. One was a rather thick tome on potions theory that appeared to be handwritten and the other was _A Beginners Guide To The Endless Possibilities of Ancient Runes._

At last, only three presents remained.

"This one's mine," said Moody gruffly, handing Harry a carefully wrapped box, "careful, stuff in there is breakable." When Harry opened the box he saw several well secured vials of what seemed to be silvery liquid that made Augusta gasp softly. "Memories," elaborated Moody, "of your parents. The first three are standard interactions and the like, the last three are from the battlefield, so know what you're getting into before watching those ones." Harry nodded, trying to keep the watery sensation out of his eyes as he smiled gratefully at Moody.

"Thank you." He said sincerely, managing to overcome the tightness in his throat.

"Don't mention it." Said Moody gruffly.

"This is from the both of us," said Augusta, pulling a long, thin package that Harry knew at once could only be one thing as she gestured vaguely between herself and her grandson. He opened the broomstick with trembling fingers, gasping when the brand new Nimbus 2001 he had gawked at in the Quidditch magazines rolled out onto his lap, causing everyone on the Quidditch team to go completely silent.

"Blimey," said Wood softly after a few moments of stunned silence, looking at the broom as if it were the most valuable thing in the world, "she's a right beauty!"

"Amen!" Chorused the twins, causing the chasers to nod dumbly along at a loss for words.

Harry got up and briefly hugged both Augusta and Neville, taking the both of them by surprise but leaving them with small smiles as he sat down and took out the final, much smaller package and read the note attached.

_Greetings,_

_I do hope this reaches you in time as I am sending it from rather far away. _

_Seeing as I believe you will have outgrown half of your current reading material rather soon, I decided to enclose a rather more advanced guide to the intricacies of Occlumency. These texts are completely my own and one of a kind, so I would ask you to treat them with great care and caution. I have done my best to simplify the material and give detailed instructions on helpful exercises to advance you through the levels of Occlumency. _

_I look forward to seeing what accomplishments are in store for you this year and wish you the happiest of birthdays!_

_Yours truly,_

_Professor Dumbledore._

Carefully, Harry put that box off to the side, handling it with great care as personally, he thought it the most valuable thing he had ever received.

'Handwritten explanations and guides to magic written by Albus Dumbledore. How many people would KILL for these?'

"Who was that one from?" Katie asked curiously, raising an eyebrow at him as he pocketed the note.

"Dumbledore." Answered Harry conversationally, causing everyone gathered minus his trio of friends, Augusta and Moody to laugh. He was sure they were thinking that he had been joking; something he did not correct them on.

That moment though, an owl swooped into the room bearing yet another package as it landed in front of Harry. Curious, Harry took the note off of its leg and read the slim, pristine handwriting that he did not recognize.

_I hope you enjoy the gift enclosed as much as I did sending it._

_Happy Birthday,_

_Your secret admirer._

Puzzled, Harry opened the box to find a rather mouth watering treacle tart that looked fresh and homemade.

Augusta took a fork full before Harry could protest. "I have not tried it in years," she defended when he mock glared at her, "I wish to know what all the fuss is about." Moody's mouth opened, probably to scream a paranoid sentiment of some kind but it was too late. She put the fork into her mouth and there was a second of silence where everybody in the room seemed to realize at the same time that something was horribly wrong as Augusta's eyes suddenly bulged out of her head.

Augusta's body began to shake as her breaths became shallow and her mouth foamed. A second later she slumped to the floor and began to convulse horribly.

"AUGUSTA!"

"GUS!"

"GRAN!"

Harry, Moody and Neville cried out as everyone else sat in absolute shock. Moody drew his wand but looked completely stumped at what to do. Neville, for his part fell to his knees beside his grandmother and looked imploringly up at Harry, seeming to try and will him to find the answer.

'Poison,' he realized, 'antidotes, antidotes — come on Potter!'

'You don't know what poison you need an antidote for.' Another voice reminded.

On the verge of panic, Harry cleared his mind in an effort to think more clearly, trying to call up everything he knew about poisons and antidotes. Seeing as that was not covered for several more years his knowledge was quite limited, but one memory did float to the center of his mind.

_"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"_

"_In the stomach of a goat, professor."_

"_What then, Potter, is a bezoar?" Asked Snape._

"_It's a stone that can save you from most poisons if ingested, sir." He said. "It's also an ingredient in several antidotes." _

"HOSKINS!" Harry cried, summoning the first Longbottom elf he could think of. When the creature arrived, Harry didn't even hesitate long enough to give the creature time to see his fallen mistress. "Bring me a bezoar now!"

The elf vanished and reappeared a second later. Harry snatched the stone from the elf's grasp, lunging forward and tackling a frantic Neville out of the way as he forcefully shoved the small, slimy looking stone down Augusta's throat. She convulsed again for a moment before, with a final shudder, her body became still, her breaths evening out as she faded into unconsciousness.

* * *

**Authors Endnote: **

**What can I say? I decided I would start the cliffhangers early in year 2!**

**I apologize for the short chapter, but next week's is 8k words, so no worries on that front. **

**Please read and review.**

**PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, March 22nd at approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	18. LOS Ch 3: Diaries and Dilemmas

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Authors Note:**

**Apologies in advance for another cliffhanger of sorts. It's not as bad as last chapter's, but will hopefully still leave you wanting more :)**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.

**Parseltongue. **

_Memories/In Story Text._

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**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 3: Diaries and Dilemmas. **

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**July 31st 1992.**

**St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. **

**11:36 PM.**

It was a grave atmosphere that surrounded Harry, Dean, Neville, Oliver and the Weasley children as they all sat outside the room where Augusta lay. They had been assured she would make a full recovery thanks to Harry's quick thinking regarding the bezoar, but they said she would need to stay at least a few weeks; possibly over a month. Aconite was a rather deadly, if little used poison, and at Augusta's age — well, it had been a very near miss.

The chasers had been taken home by Katie's mother who worked at the hospital as a healer about half an hour ago, though all three of them had wanted to stay. Oliver insisted on staying at least until Harry and Neville had a place to stay sorted out, and until Dean and the Weasleys had a way of getting home.

Moody had been there, but he had to go into work and Harry had told him not to cancel for their sake. The man had argued weakly but given in fairly quickly, not having the heart to argue with the youth at the time.

'The day was going so well too.' Thought Harry.

He had even managed to forget about Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black only for it to be replaced by another, far more pressing issue. There was also the mystery of who had sent him the poisoned treacle tart. He was certain it had been meant for him; it was his favourite after all, and the letter had clearly addressed him but unfortunately for both the sender and Augusta, it had been the older woman who had been caught in the crossfire.

'But who would want to kill me aside from Voldemort?'

He quickly discounted that option. He doubted The Dark Lord was in any state to send birthday presents at the moment and even if he was, it somehow didn't seem like Voldemort's style from what Harry had read up on the man.

Just as the deafening silence in the group was becoming too much to bear, the doors at the end of the wing opened, and through them stepped three red-heads; two of them Harry already knew, as well as, to Harry's supreme shock, a very tired looking Dumbledore. His hair and beard gleaming more brightly than anything in the hall, but he had an unmistakeable air of fatigue about him. He stood a bit behind the three Weasleys; Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and a tall, thin man with balding red hair that Harry did not know but who he assumed to be Ron's father.

"Oh Fred, George, Ron!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, quickly taking hold of her youngest first before moving onto her twins. Her husband looked grave but Harry found the eyes of the youngest Weasley firmly on him and they seemed to be asking him a silent question, one that he swore he could hear echoing in his mind when he met them.

'Are you ok.'

Harry gave her a nearly imperceptible nod in affirmation though in reality, the lie could not have been further from the truth and he somehow knew that she too was aware of that fact. If he would have just closed the tart, or better yet just put it away, they would not be in this situation.

To his left, a rather surprised looking Neville was trapped in the tight embrace of Mrs. Weasley and Harry tensed, knowing that he would be next and having no desire for such things right now. As if the man had noticed, Dumbledore spoke softly from the shadows, though his voice may as well have been a gunshot in the quiet hall.

"Could I have a word with you, Harry?" Everybody's attention snapped onto the headmaster, as Harry seemed to have been the only one to notice him. He nodded automatically, getting to his feet and following Dumbledore down the hall. Dumbledore stopped in the wide open before drawing his wand, a rather odd looking wand now that Harry saw it up close. It was darker than most, with odd symbols that he assumed to be runes carved all over its surface. He traced the wand through the air in an intricate pattern before sighing, seeming to be satisfied as he stowed the wand back in his sleeve.

"It is best if we are not interrupted." He explained gravely before turning to the youth in front of him. "Firstly Harry, allow me to offer my most sincere condolences. It is horrible that such a tragedy has befallen you, let alone on your birthday of all days." He shook his head sadly. "How are you coping?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not, really," he answered truthfully, seeing no reason to lie to the older man, "I'm just sort of numb to it I think. I wish I had bitten into the tart though."

"And what good would that have done anyone?" Dumbledore asked him more sharply than Harry had anticipated before his voice softened again. "If you had taken poor Augusta's place, I fear that no other would have had your quick thinking and ingenuity in such a moment. I am also sure that Augusta would infinitely prefer being in her condition to losing the boy who she has taken on as a second grandson."

Harry nodded stiffly. He knew that the headmaster had been correct in his assessment, but it did nothing to curb the irrational guilt he felt deep within his very soul.

"It was a poisoned gift?" Asked Dumbledore, peering intently at Harry. He nodded, still not seeing a good enough reason to lie.

"Yes, treacle tart; a favourite of mine."

"Did this gift come with a note by any chance?" Harry pulled the offending slip of parchment from his pocket and handed it to the older man. He saw his lips tighten in distaste at the contents of the note before his wand was in his hand again. "May I?" He asked, his wand hovering over the parchment. Harry nodded and Dumbledore began to run his wand over the note, muttering in all kinds of strange languages that Harry did not understand before he sighed, nodding grudgingly as he handed the parchment back to Harry.. "Whomever has sent this has covered their tracks well." He conceded. "There is no trace of magic on this note. It has been handled extremely carefully, for the mere touch of a hand is often enough to leave a magical residue."

Harry didn't react, having expected nothing less; it was just his luck after all.

"Have you and young Mr. Longbottom worked out a place to stay while Augusta is recovering?"

"No." Harry answered honestly.

"Molly and Arthur are more than agreeable to allow both you and Mr. Longbottom to stay at their home for the remainder of the summer holidays. I would like to think I have learned from past experience and did not wish to overstep my boundaries as your magical guardian." Harry nodded, actually managing a weak, if a bit sad smile for the old man who nodded in return. "You are agreeable to the proposal then?"

"Yes," said Harry, "you'll have to ask Neville too, but I think he'll like the idea. At least this way we can stay with some friends."

"My thoughts exactly," the headmaster concurred, "Arthur and Molly are as exemplary as the rest of their family. I have no doubt that the both of you will be well looked after and rather better off than well fed." The man yawned, briefly removing his half-moon spectacles and rubbing tiredly at his eyes, which had dark bags underneath them.

"Are you alright, sir?" Harry asked tentatively, having never seen Dumbledore look so worn out.

The man merely smiled gently at him as he replaced his spectacles back upon his nose. "Quite so, though I thank you for your concern. I spent much of my summer touring Greece, as it is a place I have always found most interesting, but was forced to rush back to England on short notice. I have observed that in my old age, travel takes more of a toll than it did in my youth." He spotted Harry's guilty look and raised a placating hand. "I was coming back today either way, dear boy. I have to depart for Russia on the seventh of August for our annual ICW convention and needed to get some paperwork finished that I have procrastinated over during my vacation."

Harry noticed the rest of them watching him and Dumbledore intently and the headmaster followed his gaze with some amusement.

"I think that is our queue to cut this meeting short," he noted with a respectful nod to Harry, "I will briefly speak with Mr. Longbottom as well as both Molly and Arthur and then I am afraid I must be on my way."

He waved his wand and dispelled whatever magic he had conjured around them as he made his way over to Neville. Harry was receiving rather awed looks from his friends as he made his way back to the row of chairs. He almost jumped a foot into the air when he felt a soft hand close around his for a second before giving it a brief squeeze and letting go. He turned his head to see the same pair of eyes looking at him as he had earlier, soft brown eyes belonging to the youngest of the red haired brewed. Harry smiled sadly back at her, making her blush furiously.

* * *

**August 4th 1992.**

**The Burrow.**

**7:41 AM.**

It was quite a shift going from the spacious manor that was the Longbottom ancestral home to the cramped, chaotic confines of The Burrow. With that being said, Harry did not at all dislike the atmosphere. As a matter of fact, he found it very enjoyable and thought it was a nice feeling. The place just felt warm and inviting, something he had spent much of his life wishing for above all else.

He spent a bit of time each day out above the orchards playing Quidditch with Ron, Fred, George and occasionally Neville. The twins had tried to convince their older brother Percy to play, but the boy was constantly shut up in his room, causing Ron to proclaim he was worse than Harry, who too had spent much time behind the closed door of his, Ron's and Neville's shared bedroom studying diligently. Unlike Augusta, Mrs. Weasley was not so lax on the use of magic, only reluctantly allowing Harry's sessions with Moody to continue at all. The restraint bothered Harry quite a bit, but Mrs. Weasley had been nothing but adoring of both him and Neville since their arrival, so he could hardly hold a grudge.

This morning he was up before his counterparts, something that came as no surprise at all to him as he crept down the stairs and into the kitchen, intent on making some food for himself if Mrs. Weasley was not already up and doing so. To his surprise though, there was a female Weasley in the kitchen although it was not Mrs. Weasley. Ginny seemed to be making scrambled eggs and toast for herself.

"Good morning Ginny." He greeted, causing her to squeal and drop the plate she had grabbed for her food, prompting it to shatter on the floor. Harry cursed internally, slipping his wand from his sleeve as he had not bothered with his holster this morning. Ginny's eyes went wide as he pointed the wand towards the shattered plate. "Reparo." He said calmly, causing the plate to neatly fit back together as he pocketed his wand.

Ginny frowned. "Mum won't like that." She warned, but did not object as she turned her attention back to the eggs.

"I won't tell if you don't." Harry told her with a smile, causing Ginny to stifle a snort behind her hand. "Can you leave the bread out?" He asked her after a moment. "I think I'll take some after you unless your mum is coming back. Merlin knows she won't let me make anything for myself."

Ginny giggled. "She's out at the market; she probably won't be back for awhile." She piled the last piece of toast onto her plate before holding it out to him. "Take mine, I'll make more."

Harry shook his head. "It's ok," he said with a smile, "I can make my own."

Ginny ignored him, placing the plate on the table and reaching for more toast. "I don't mind." She said as she began to prepare more.

Harry sighed but couldn't quite suppress a smile. "Clearly." He noted with some amusement, taking a seat and reaching for the plate just as an owl flew in the open window and dropped off a copy of The Daily Prophet. Harry picked up the paper.

_Ministry Conducts Controversial Raids on The Homes of Several Influential Members of The Wizengamot_

_By Rita Skeeter. _

"Wish your dad had found something at Malfoy's." He muttered as he skimmed the article. Mr. Weasley had told them of the oncoming raids and Harry had been rather interested, seeming to surprise the older man, as none of his children, with the exception of Percy, were ever overly bothered.

"Did they get anything from anyone?" Ginny asked him curiously.

"Some minor things from a few places, it sounds like." He informed her. "Nothing major though, and nothing from Lucius Malfoy."

Ginny frowned. "Dad will be miffed by that." She said. "Anything else interesting in there?"

Harry flipped through the paper and scanned each page, frowning at the title:

_Albus Dumbledore's Sympathy of Dangerous Creatures Could Lead To Disaster._

"Not unless you're interested in Dumbledore getting bashed by some reporter for spearheading the passing of a new law." He said as he scanned the page.

"What law?"

He read a bit more carefully for a moment before answering. "I guess it's more of a change then a new law. Apparently Dumbledore's been trying for months to get Veela removed from the dark creatures classification. He won the vote yesterday. Apparently this reporter isn't happy about it."

Ginny giggled. "Such a silly thing to be upset over."

"They'll always find something." Sighed Harry as he put down his paper and went back to his eggs. He sat in silence for several minutes before Ginny took her seat with her own plate. Seemingly on queue, there was a loud CRACK from beside them -and Harry whirled, wand out to find, to his bemusement, the filthiest house elf Harry had ever laid his eyes on.

The creature looked no different from most except for the fact that its right hand seemed to be wrapped in a heavy bandage and its robe was not one at all. Instead it was what appeared to be a filthy pillow case draped over itself as a loincloth.

'Yikes.'

"Harry Potter," breathed the creature in a voice that was definitely too high to be a human's, "it is an honour sir! Such an honour! So long Dobby has wanted to meet the great Harry Potter sir!"

"Thank you," answered Harry carefully, thrown a bit off guard by the elf. None of the Longbottom's elves acted anything like the creature that stood in front of him. "Who are you?" Harry asked, doing his best to not come across as rude, but the house elf didn't seem to think him so. On the contrary, the creature positively beamed at him upon being asked such a trivial question.

"Dobby sir — just Dobby — Dobby the house elf!"

"I don't mean to be rude," said Harry, doing his best to emulate Dumbledore's ever calm, ever polite manner of speaking, "but is there any particular reason you're here?" Harry glanced towards Ginny. She was sat at the table in what appeared to be complete and utter shock, though she had the wherewithal to keep quiet.

"Oh — yes sir." The house elf said earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you sir — it is difficult sir — Dobby wonders where to begin."

"Take a seat if you'd like." Offered Harry, finding it a bit odd to have the house elf standing before him, looking up at him with ever questioning eyes. To his alarm, the elf burst into rather loud tears, tears that he was certain would carry up the stairs and into the others bedrooms. "Shhh!" Hissed Harry urgently, and as soon as he spoke, the house elf fell deadly silent, choosing instead to let the tears fall silently down his face. When he had finally managed to recover several minutes later, the elf spoke.

"Dobby has never been offered a seat with wizards! To do so is to treat Dobby as an equal!"

"Then you can't have met many decent wizards." Said Harry with some distaste, fully aware of the prejudice that magical creatures faced from much of the wizarding populace.

Dobby shook his head and then, without warning, he lunged towards the wall, swiftly beginning to smack his head against it repeatedly. Ginny screamed and Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it towards the stairs.

"Silencio." He incanted, assuring that no more sound would reach the upstairs section of the home. He realized what was happening and scolded himself internally for not foreseeing it. Judging by his appearance and demeanour, Dobby's masters clearly were not the kindest of wizards, and Harry had essentially led the elf straight into a trap. He could not insult them without violating his own code, hence the punishment; though Harry personally thought self inflicted concussion may have been a bit over the top.

"Protego." He said, aiming his wand between Dobby and the wall, causing a shimmering white shield to push the elf back. Once he was confident that Dobby wouldn't try to weaponize the wall against himself again, Harry dropped his shield and turned back to the elf.

Ginny was wide eyed now and looked as if she might cry. Harry shot her what he hoped was a comforting smile before redirecting his full attention back to the house elf in front of him.

"Dobby," said Harry as forcefully as he could manage, "don't do anything that you'll have to punish yourself for."

The elf smiled sadly at him. "It is too late for that, Harry Potter. Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door if they ever find out"

"But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?" Ginny asked, sounding incredulous.

"Dobby doubts it, miss." The elf said gravely. "Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, miss. They let Dobby get on with it. Sometimes they remind Dobby to do extra punishments."

"Who would do something like that?" Raged Ginny, sounding furious.

"More people than you might think." Harry muttered darkly, thinking of Malfoy and his group of lackeys.

"The great Harry Potter is right, miss." Said Dobby heavily. "But of course he is, Harry Potter is a great wizard."

Harry shook his head. "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is exaggerated at best. I've only completed a year at Hogwarts. I have a very long way to go."

"Harry Potter is humble and modest." Dobby said admiringly. "Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Harry sighed. "You shouldn't be so excited about coincidences, Dobby. I had no control over what happened that night with Voldemort." Ginny squealed in protest at the name and Dobby sprang backwards, shaking his head frantically.

"Speak not the name sir! Speak not the name!"

Harry scowled. "Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself." He quoted his headmaster pointedly. "I don't fear Voldemort, and neither should any of you. Fear is a powerful weapon; we shouldn't give him anything we don't have to."

Ginny and Dobby both stared at Harry with looks of awestruck adoration on their faces.

Dobby winced, but leaned forwards, his ears perking up as his eyes went as wide as head lamps. "Dobby heard stories that Harry Potter met The Dark Lord for a second time just weeks ago." Ginny gasped, gaping like a fish as she looked upon him. He didn't look at her, instead narrowing his eyes at the elf in front of him. "Dobby heard that Harry Potter managed to escape The Dark Lord again."

"How would you know of tha even if it did happent?" Asked Harry, his suspicion growing by the second.

"Dobby's masters hear things sir. They are very important people sir." He leaned even further forward. "Is it true?"

"Perhaps," he said evasively, but he instantly knew that both Ginny and Dobby had taken his avoidance of the question as confirmation.

'Slick Potter, real slick.'

"Harry Potter is valiant and bold!" Proclaimed Dobby, wiping his eyes on the edges of the filthy pillowcase he wore. "He has faced grave dangers already, but Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him even if he has to shut his ears in the oven door later. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts!"

There was a silence so heavy that somebody in the room may have just fallen dead on the floor. "W-what?" Harry stammered. "You're off your rocker." He said with a shake of his head. "there's nothing you can tell me that will make me not go to Hogwarts." He said defiantly. Hogwarts was his real home, he would never abandon the castle.

"No, no, no!" Whaled Dobby, shaking his head so fast his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe! He is too great, too good to lose! If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts he will be in mortal danger!"

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously.

'This elf knows way too much for my liking.'

"There's a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most horrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year." Whispered Dobby, suddenly shaking all over. "Harry Potter must not put himself in peril sir. He is too important."

"What horrible things?" Pressed Harry, his voice soft but demanding, still doing his best to imitate his headmaster. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and began smashing his head off of the floor, causing Ginny to squeak again.

'His masters then,' thought Harry, 'or somebody associated with them.'

"Alright," said Harry, grabbing the elf's arm and physically restraining him, "I get it, you can't tell me, but why are you warning me in the first place?" A sudden thought struck him. "This doesn't have anything to do with Voldemort, does it?" Both Ginny and the elf flinched horribly, but Harry ignored the both of them. "You can just shake or nod your head." He added.

Slowly, Dobby shook his head. "Not-not… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir." But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint.

'Odd to emphasize his title like that. Somebody associated with him maybe? A former Death Eater?'

"I don't see who else has a chance of screwing around at Hogwarts with Dumbledore there." Harry said honestly. The man had slipped up last year but even then, he had, in a sense, been in control of the situation.

Dobby shook his head. "Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen. Dobby has heard that his powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his power, but there are powers Albus Dumbledore does not have sir."

Harry shook his head. He would have thought this whole thing some elaborate prank from Malfoy, or one of the other purebloods rich enough to own a house elf if the elf in question had not appeared to know so much. "I'll take my chances." He said with some finality. "If that's all, you can go Dobby."

The elf's ears drooped as he stared sadly up at Harry. "Don't say that Dobby did not warn you, sir." He said sadly, and with a loud CRACK, he disappeared. Harry sighed and turned to Ginny.

"I need you to promise me that none of what just happened or what was just said will leave this room." The intensity in his voice took her aback as her eyes widened.

"B-but should-shouldn't somebody know if there is going to be danger at Hogwarts?"

"Someone will know," assured Harry, "I'll tell Dumbledore himself the first chance I get, but none of this can leave the room, Ginny! Can you please promise me that?" His eyes were practically begging and Harry saw something soften in the younger girl's gaze as she nodded.

"I'll make an oath if you want." She offered, but Harry shook his head.

"That's not necessary," he dismissed, "just your word is enough for me, but when I say you can't tell ANYBODY, that includes your family."

"I promise I won't tell anybody!" She agreed forcefully, not even hesitating for a second. Harry smiled, finally waving his wand towards the stairs once more and dispelling the silencing charm he had placed upon them.

"Thank you," he said, finishing the last few bites of his now cold eggs before getting to his feet and making his way outside towards the broom closet that contained both of his broomsticks.

'I need to think.'

* * *

**August 11th 1992.**

**The Leaky Cauldron.**

**10:59 AM.**

The week that followed the unexpected arrival of the elf was one of normality for Harry. He spent a lot of time locked up in his shared room practicing magic, driven even further down his path of motivation by the elf's ominous warning, a warning that he had long since decided had more than a fair possibility of being legitimate. He had still yet to manage silent casting despite his efforts, though his progress in other areas had been encouraging. He had mastered much of the third year school curriculum now and was nearing its end. On top of that, his sessions with Moody were going better and better each time, and he had opened another cut on the old auror during their last practice, even if such a thing had earned him a rather rough banishing charm that had sent him crashing into the wall, a charm he was now determined to learn despite it being fourth year level.

When he wasn't practicing on his own or training with Moody, he was in the company of Ron and Neville, often joined by the twins in the air on broomsticks as they exalted in their games of Quidditch, something elevated to even greater heights by the sheer joy one of the others received every time Harry allowed one of them to use his Nimbus 2000 while he broke in the 2001. The handling on the two brooms was much the same, though the sheer acceleration and top end speed had been a focus in the production of the new broom, and such attention to these things were displayed quite beautifully by the drastic difference in these characteristics between the two state of the art broomsticks.

They had received their Hogwarts letters too; the owls dropped them off not hours after Harry's conversation with the mysterious house elf known only to him as Dobby. Whomever the new Defense professor was, they clearly had a serious obsession with Gilderoy Lockhart, a man who was apparently fabled for his deeds all across the United Kingdom. This seeming obsession had immediately ingratiated this new person to Mrs. Weasley, who had almost forgot how many galleons she would have to try and fork out for the books in her haste to gush about how much they would learn from examining the man's work.

Harry had been planning on simply owl ordering his books, but Ron insisted that he would go to the alley with them, and when Dean had sent a letter asking when and if they could meet up, Harry had found that his hands had been well and truly tied.

It was this letter as well as a few others that found Harry, Neville and the Weasleys making their way out the back of The Leaky Cauldron with Dean in tow, who was chattering away to Harry, Ron and Neville about his last two weeks of holidays.

When they entered the lobby of Gringotts, Dean spent several minutes exchanging the muggle money his parents had given him for golden galleons, silver sickles and bronze Knuts before they all piled into the large cart and were swiftly on their way down the sloping passageways. The first vault they came to was that of the Weasleys, and Harry felt a pang in his chest when Mrs. Weasley straightened up to reveal that after everything she had gathered up, there was but a single golden galleon remaining in the vault. He had tried to offer to pay, but she had quickly shot the idea down with vehemence, something that made him shut his mouth rather quickly, though it did earn him grateful, if not sad smiles from Ron and the twins.

His guilt only served to increase when they reached his trust vault and piles of golden galleons reached high towards the ceiling. He noticed something else too though, something that got his attention. It was sitting right near the door and if he were being honest, Harry had no idea how he had not seen the thick looking notebook before now. He scooped it up curiously, quickly stuffing it into his bottomless backpack before anyone else could notice it.

'Something to look at later.'

Neville retrieved a similar amount of money from his family vault several minutes later and they all made their way back up to the surface.

From there, they all went to Madam Malkin's, with the older boys simply requesting newer, larger versions of the robes they already had while Ginny was fitted with her Hogwarts robes for the first time. After this they split up, with Harry, Ron and Dean going off with Mr. Weasley to the apothecary while Fred, George and Ginny went off to Ollivander's to fit Ginny with her new wand. Harry figured Mrs. Weasley insisted on the twins accompanying her to keep them out of trouble while the rest of them bought everyone's necessary potions ingredients.

It didn't take long for their trip to come to its conclusion and before they knew it, they were approaching a Flourish and Blotts that seemed to be positively buzzing with people as they tried to locate Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and the twins through the chaos of the surging crowds. The reason for the unexpected crowds became rather evident as they approached the shop, as large posters of a smiling face were plastered along side signs reading:

_Gilderoy Lockhart Will Be Signing Copies of His Autobiography, Magical Me Today Between 9:30 and 3:30._

"Might be cool to meet him." Commented Dean as they slowly began to make headway towards the doors. "I mean, he's written like — the whole book list and apparently he's done a bunch of incredible stuff, hasn't he?"

"Apparently." Agreed Harry, who refused to believe that anyone with such a pompous smile could be anything less than useless or evil.

It took them an age to enter the shop, as witches, seeming to mostly be around Mrs. Weasley's age, were shoving anyone in their way like mad to get to the door, completely ignoring the scolding they were getting from the owner of the shop, who was trying in vain to keep the crowd calm around his priceless collection of books.

They spotted Mrs. Weasley with the twins and Ginny up ahead in the line and, grabbing copies of some of Lockhart's books as they went, managed to squeeze into line beside them.

Mrs. Weasley looked rather flustered as she made furious attempts to pat her hair down. "Oh, there you are! We'll get to see him in a minute!" Fred and George rolled their eyes at the quartet behind their mother's back and caused the four of them to smirk while Mr. Weasley smiled indulgently at his wife.

Slowly, Lockhart's form came into focus. He was sitting at a table surrounded by beaming pictures of his own face, something that Harry thought was a bit narcissistic, but he did not dare comment in front of Ron's mother. The real Lockhart was wearing a set of forget me not blue robes that matched his eyes perfectly and he wore his wizard's hat in a lazy manner that suited his long, wavy hair. A short irritable looking man was dancing around and taking photos with a rather obnoxious looking camera.

"Out of the way!" Said the man as he forcefully shoved Ron out of his shot. "This is for The Daily Prophet."

"Big deal!" Said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it. What would turn out to be unfortunate news for Harry happened in that instant, as Gilderoy Lockhart had heard him and looked over towards their group with narrowed eyes, eyes that suddenly widened when they rested upon Harry.

'Damn, stupid scar must be showing. Guess someone messed up my hair while I was trying to get in here.'

In an instant, Lockhart was on his feet, his eyes transfixed on Harry as his face split into an ear to ear grin as he cried loud enough for everyone gathered to hear. "It can't be! Harry Potter!" The crowd parted, whispering excitedly. Lockhart lunged forward, seized hold of Harry's arm and dragged him up to the front. He saw Ron make to intervene but shot him a "don't bother" look. Augusta would want him to handle the publicity, not avoid it, and he figured it was best to just get such things over with.

The photographer was clicking away madly as Lockhart shook Harry's hand exaggeratedly for the camera and the crowd clapped in the background. "Nice big smile Harry!" Said Lockhart through his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page!"

'I would have no problem making the front page on my own, thanks.'

When he finally let go of Harry's hand, he could hardly feel his fingers. He finally attempted an escape but it was in vain, as Lockhart through his arm around Harry's shoulders in an effort to stop him getting to the Weasleys, not noticing nor caring when Harry stiffened for a few tense moments.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet, "what an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time, as a matter of fact. When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography..."

'Nope, I wanted to buy a lot more than that, but only because our defense professor is some sort of fan-' and then it clicked. 'Oh, you've got to be kidding me!' He thought as he realized what Lockhart would say a moment before he said it.

"...which I will be happy to present him now, free of charge!" The crowd applauded again. "He had no idea that he would shortly be getting much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his school fellows will in fact be getting the real magical me. Yes ladies and gentlemen! I have great honour and pride in saying that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

'Well, we'll soon know if you really can break curses.' Thought Harry as the crowd cheered and applauded. 'I bet not.'

Harry barely managed to stagger out of the center of the bookstore under the weight of Lockhart's full collection, which had been practically shoved into his arms by the man himself just moments after his big announcement. Harry made his way to the edge of the room where Ginny was standing with her new cauldron, the thought of the measly sum remaining in the Weasley's vault flooding his mind.

"You have these," he told her, tipping his books into the cauldron, "I'll buy my own."

"Bet you loved that, didn't you Potter?" Said a voice that Harry had no trouble recognizing. He straightened up and found himself staring at Draco Malfoy, though his usual bodyguards were absent. Unfortunately for Harry, he had a substitute, as his mother stood behind him, her hand resting firmly upon her son's shoulder. "Famous Harry Potter," said Malfoy, "can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave him alone! He didn't want all that!" Spat Ginny. She was glaring hatefully at the blonde Slytherin.

"Potter," drawled Malfoy, "you've got yourself a girlfriend."

Ginny flushed red but Harry was unphased. "Well, that's more than you'll ever be able to say, so I would shut up if I were you."

Malfoy sneered contemptuously. "I am the Heir of The Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy. I will have whichever witch I would like."

"Well, I congratulate you for being born. And of course, any witch in the world that accepts large scale bribes will be yours for the taking. How silly of me to forget."

Harry heard a snort from behind him as Ron, Dean and Neville stepped up beside him. "Not so fun when the game is turned on you, is it Malfoy?" Asked Neville with more contempt than Harry had ever heard in his voice.

"Yeah, bet you're surprised to see Harry here." Noted Ron.

"Not as surprised as I am to see you two in a bookstore, Weasley." Quipped Malfoy. "I'm not sure squibs can read, and I imagine your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for that lot."

Ron made to start forward but Narcissa raised her free hand and he faltered. "If you attempt to place one hand on my son, I will make sure that you fail to continue both your education and your relationships." Ron seemed to falter but Harry just glared at her.

'What is it with you and threats?'

"Harry, Ron, what are you doing?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she stepped forward, Mr. Weasley and the twins alongside her. She spotted Narcissa and shot her a rather ugly scowl. "Oh, you."

Narcissa quirked a perfect brow, looking down at the shorter woman as if she were a rather offensive spec of dirt. "Me." She commented neutrally.

"Why are you harassing my son and his friends?" Molly asked a bit heatedly. Before Narcissa could answer though, a new voice spoke, one that practically screamed of wealth, control and aristocracy.

"It would be appreciated if you did not hurl baseless accusations at my wife, Weasley." A tall, thin man with long, wavy platinum blonde hair stepped forward and rested his hand on Draco's other shoulder. Harry noticed that the eyes that he now guessed belonged to Lucius Malfoy matched those of his son perfectly.

"Baseless?" Hissed Mrs. Weasley, but her husband rested a firm hand on her arm.

"Molly, that's enough."

Mr. Malfoy's lips twitched. "Well, well, well, and if it isn't Arthur Weasley; far more intelligent than I would have given you credit for, Arthur. Clearly your workload as of late has not dampened your judgement." His eyes flickered to Dean. "Or perhaps — it has." Arthur's jaw tensed. "All those raids, your name all over the paper, yet still you keep such despicable company." He shook his head with a sneer. "I hope they are at least paying you well for disgracing the name of wizard."

"Clearly not." Said Narcissa with a small smile, reaching into Ginny's cauldron suddenly and removing a battered guide to _Magical Theory._

Arthur ignored Narcissa and kept his eyes fixed firmly on Lucius. "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of a wizard, Malfoy."

"Clearly," drawled Lucius, his eyes honing in once more on Dean, "one of us is enthralled by the presence of mudbloods, while the other-" But he never finished his thought. Mr. Weasley suddenly detached himself from his wife and lunged at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backwards as the two collided with a bookshelf and went down swinging.

"Get 'em dad!" Cried the twins in unison, but Harry's eyes were on Narcissa, who had quickly gone for her wand. Harry stepped forward on instinct, summoning his own holly wand from its holster and facing the other woman with a steely gaze. Neither of them so much as moved until finally, a booming voice resonated through the bookstore.

"Brake it up there gents! Break it up!" Both Harry and Narcissa's attention was diverted when Hagrid forcefully ripped Mr.'s Malfoy and Weasley apart, the former staggered towards his wife while the latter wiped blood from his bleeding nose. Narcissa sneered and dropped the book back into Ginny's cauldron, though Harry could have swore he saw the merest ghost of a smile flash across her lips.

"Narcissa, Draco, we are leaving!" Pronounced Lucius, not even waiting for their replies as he stormed towards the door. Neither Draco nor Narcissa questioned him, though the latter threw an odd, calculating look at Harry as she swept after her husband and son.

Harry was left with the odd, worrying feeling that despite the obvious gravity of the confrontation, he had somehow missed the most important element of it all.

* * *

**August 11th 1992.**

**The Burrow.**

**11:34 PM.**

Harry stared in awe at what he had thought to have been a large notebook that now lay in his lap. As much as he craved knowledge, this was far more valuable to him than any notebook could ever be. Instead of a notebook, it was an impossibly long diary, one that seemed to span over a fairly significant number of years. The important thing to Harry though was not as much the nature of the book as the name on the cover:

_Lily Evans._

The first entry appeared to be from the year of 1970, while the last seemed to be the summer of 1981. That meant that there were eleven years of tidbits related to his mother and likely his father as well written within the pages of this diary, and beyond that, his mother had continued it up until the very end.

'She must have wanted me to have it.'

He could think of no other reason why the book had been left in his trust vault, so close to the door at that, and he failed too to see how he had missed it during his previous visit last summer.

He took a deep breath; he had spent a lot of time studying that day, driven on by the confrontation with Narcissa but now, he thought he deserved a break, at least for this.

* * *

Little did Harry Potter know that he was not the only one pouring over a diary within The Burrow at that exact moment. Unfortunately for him though, not all such books carried the same, innocent qualities as the one that had once belonged to his mother.

Ginny had just copied the last of the encounter with Harry and the Malfoys into the new diary that had miraculously ended up in her cauldron as she sighed. She had never considered a diary before, it would have been foolish to waste precious money on such material things, but now, Ginny found the venting and recapping thoroughly relieving and liberating, even if it could only be done in writing.

She smiled down at the small book in her lap, only to gasp in shock when words began to write themselves onto the same paper, right where hers had been just moments earlier.

_Wow! It seems as if you have had quite the day, does it not?_

Ginny stared in wonderment at the book as she tentatively reached for her quill. She could vaguely remember her father saying something about not trusting anything that could think for itself without apparent reason, but she hardly considered such a small thing as a diary to be dangerous.

_How do you write back to me?_

This time she watched, transfixed as her words seemed to sink into the book, only to be replaced with the reply only moments later.

_Such a surprisingly complicated question. I suppose the best and most simple way to answer is merely to say magic._

_Are you enchanted?_

_In a sense, I suppose. _

_So, someone put a spell on you to write back to whoever wrote in you?_

This time, there was a moment's pause before the reply came.

_Both correct and so far from the truth. I am no generic enchantment; I am the likeness of the last person to own this diary. I answer you exactly as he would, for I am him in every sense of the word._

Ginny flipped to the front of the book and read the name before writing.

_So, you're Tom Marvolo Riddle?_

This time, the reply was much faster.

_At your service; I would say in the flesh, though I suppose such phrases would not be apt for this situation. _

There was another pause before a new message replaced the previous.

_And who is it that Tom Marvolo Riddle has the pleasure of speaking too after so many years?_

_Ginny Weasley._

_Ginny? A nice name, even if I am sure it is short for something you dislike. _

Ginny smiled. She had never much liked the name, though the simple praise of it brightened her spirits as a new message was making itself present.

_I think we can become rather good friends, Ginny. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?_

She hesitated as the words of her father came back to her.

'Something doesn't seem right here.'

_I've been told not to trust something that can think for itself._

The reply was much quicker this time, though once it faded, its own reply was the longest yet.

_Have you now? Well, in most circumstances, that is probably sound advice, though I assure you, I have only true intentions. If it makes you feel any better, I can go first if you would like?_

And it began. Ginny was up late that night, learning all about the sixteen year old Slytherin prefect who had been touted as a genius. A boy who had been born into nothing and wanted above all to make something of himself. His story nearly brought her to tears and by the end of the night, Ginny found that she had very little reluctance in spilling her secrets to Tom, though he would have to wait for another day, as she was quite tired.

As she lay her head on her pillow to sleep, she did not notice the almost inaudible quiver of the diary on her desk.

* * *

**Authors Endnote:**

**See, not too bad of a cliffy, eh?**

**No cliffhanger next time, I promise!**

**On that note, next up, Hogwarts!**

**Please read and review. **

**PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, March 29th 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM.**


	19. LOS Ch 4: Welcome Home

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

* * *

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe **

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.

**Parseltongue. **

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 4: Welcome Home.**

* * *

**September 1st 1992.**

**The Burrow.**

**6:55 AM.**

Harry found, to his great amusement, that he seemed to be the only one fully packed that morning as both Ron and Neville scrambled frantically to collect all of their things and judging by the sounds from the twins' room, it was likely that they were doing the same.

'Well, I'm sure Percy is packed, but that's to be expected.'

He had seen very little of the eldest Weasley child that summer. The older t boy had spent far more time locked up in his room then even Harry had managed, and hadn't even boasted about his outstanding O.W.L scores, something that Ron and the twins assured him was most out of character for the now sixth year Gryffindor prefect.

Harry had not been overly concerned, spending increasing amounts of time locked in his own room pouring over books and spells. He was fairly confident he had completed the third year curriculum in Charms, Transfiguration and Defense Against The Dark Arts in terms of theory, but he would need to make sure he could perform many of the spells. The defense curriculum would be the most difficult, as it was one he could not so easily gain practical experience with, seeing as it centered heavily around varying species of dangerous magical creatures.

While he studied relentlessly and made some time during the day to spend time with Ron, Neville and the twins, the nights were for his mother's journal. It had been started before Hogwarts, though unlike Harry, she already knew that she was a witch thanks to — of all the people in the world — Snape. Apparently, because the fates wanted to make his life even more complicated, Harry's mother had been rather close with his current Potions Master since the age of nine, though to Harry, this only made his behaviour towards him all the more confusing.

'He hated my father and got on with my mother, shouldn't that balance out?'

He wasn't too bothered with Snape if he was telling the truth. He had long since accepted that the man would likely despise him no matter the scenario, but he was admittedly curious to hear about the man's rivalry with his father from his mother's perspective.

Now, the diary was stowed in his password protected trunk, along with his clothes, school books and other personal belongings. He thanked Merlin for the feather light charm as he easily managed to transport his trunk down into the kitchen where Ginny was sitting alone at the table, reminding Harry eerily of the day that Dobby had arrived.

"Morning, Ginny." Said Harry, causing the girl to jump and hide something hastily in her lap.

'Odd.'

"Oh, hi Harry. You scared me!"

"Sorry," he apologized with an easy smile, "I didn't mean to."

She just shook her head. "It's ok." She said, and Harry noticed that she looked unusually tired; there were dark bags underneath her eyes.

"Did you not sleep well?" He asked, recognizing the signs all too well; it was what he saw in the mirror most days himself.

She flushed a bit. "N-not really, no. I-I've been a bit nervous."

Harry smiled in a way that he hoped would put her at ease as he leaned towards her, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You can't be worse than Ron." He stage whispered. "The git was turning green when he stepped up to the stool." Ginny giggled, quickly stifling the noise behind her hand as she looked up to Harry in amazement.

"Really?"

"Yup." Said Harry cheerfully, remembering the exact shade of green in question. "And don't worry," he said, "if you're worried about the sorting, you'll be in Gryffindor for sure if your brother can make it. I mean — look at him." She giggled again, but fell silent quite quickly as her mother bustled back into the room.

"At least three of you had the brains to pack early!" She scoffed, heaving a trunk that must have belonged to Ginny out of the way and against the wall.

* * *

Mrs. Weasley's hectic morning was far from over, as her children seemed to push it to its utmost limits with their lack of punctuality. If that wasn't enough, they had to turn back several times on their way to the train station. Fred had forgotten his fireworks. George had forgotten his broom. And Ginny had forgotten her diary. By the time they got to King's Cross Station with little to no time to spare, Mrs. Weasley was almost frantic as she ushered them all towards the barrier. She went through first with Ginny, followed by Percy and Mr. Weasley, followed by the twins, leaving just Ron, Harry and Neville left.

"All in one go?" Ron asked, lazily pushing his trolly towards the barrier. Harry nodded, a bit nervous despite himself. He had not gone through the barrier before, always flooing directly onto the platform itself and bypassing the magical barrier altogether. He did not protest even in spite of that fact as he, Ron and Neville neared the barrier at some speed. Harry closed his eyes, wondering if it would feel at all odd going through the barrier when, to his utmost shock and horror, the only thing he felt was a fair bit of pain as their trolleys slammed into the barrier, spilling them and their trunks backwards.

'Thank goodness I sent Hedwig early; she'd be furious.'

"What the hell?!" Cursed Ron as they got to their feet, trying to discreetly press his hands up against the now solid barrier. "How is that even possible?"

"Uh… guys," said Neville, "we have two minutes!" Harry cursed, throwing a look at the time only to realize that Neville wasn't kidding.

"What do we do?" Asked a desperate looking Ron, gesturing frantically between the clock and the barrier.

"We could wait for your parents." Suggested Neville.

"Yeah, but the barrier might not let them through. They might just apparate back home and assume they missed us."

"Don't be thick," scolded Harry, "they're car is in the parking lot. They're definitely going to come back."

"The car," breathed Ron, a grin splitting across his face, "that's it! We can take the car!"

Harry's jaw fell open as he stared at Ron. "Please tell me you're not serious?"

Ron blinked. "What?"

"No offence mate, but that might be the most needlessly reckless thing I have ever heard. Why steal the car and risk the fury of your parents, crashing, or accidentally violating the Statute of Secrecy when we could just wait for your parents?"

Ron flushed red but he did not have time to say anything as another strong voice spoke from behind them, one that Harry had only heard once before.

"Please tell me that I have taken your comment about The Statute of Secrecy out of context?"

Harry turned and could have beamed in relief at the sight of the stern looking woman with the hard jaw that he knew both to be Augusta's friend as well as the head of the DMLE.

"Madam Bones," breathed Harry, "thank Merlin you showed up now."

Amelia's eyebrows rose. "I don't suppose your enthusiasm to see me has anything to do with the Statute of Secrecy, does it?" She asked dryly.

"No — well, at least not really. The barrier is sealed, we can't get through."

The woman's eyebrows rose even further into her hairline. "Sealed?" she asked incredulously. "How could it have become sealed?"

Harry shrugged, turning to the barrier and pushing against it with all of his force to no avail just as the clock struck 10:59.

Madam Bones frowned, stepping up and discreetly running her wand over the barrier. "It is no ward scheme I have ever seen." She muttered as she shook her head. "I will summon the aurors, and perhaps an Obliviator or two may not be a horrible precaution." She looked at the three of them. "Well, I suppose this means we will need another way of getting the three of you to Hogwarts. You three are lucky I chose to come back this way after dropping off my niece. I will call for an emergency portkey to be brought along with the aurors. One moment please." She stepped out of their earshot, quickly weaving her wand through the air and creating what Harry thought must be wards.

'Muggle repelling probably, and there's clearly a silencing ward.'

A few minutes later, she returned, stuffing something Harry could not make out in time back into her robes. "A team is on their way and the portkey will be with them." She turned to examine the barrier. "Surely it was not like this the entire morning or the station would be full of students?"

"It wasn't," noted Ron confusedly, "my parents and siblings all went through with no problem."

Madam Bones pursed her lips just as several cracks resounded around them.

"Madam Bones," one of the aurors asked, stepping forward. He was a tall, dark skinned man who was well muscled and carried himself with what Harry considered to be an impressive air of confidence.

"Shacklebolt," she addressed him, "the ward scheme is one I have never seen, though I trust you and your men will take it down?"

"Of course madam." He said, signaling for his men to follow him as he pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket. "The portkey, Madam Bones. It's password activated, the password is written on it." She nodded approvingly, gesturing for the three of them to gather round and all touch the parchment.

"Now, one of you just need to speak the password."

It was Neville who spoke first. "Express." And just like that, Harry was travelling through a blur of colours as he and his two companions seemed to be in the midst of travelling through space and time itself. Then, with a rather painful jolt that sent them all sprawling as they slammed into the sloping lawns of Hogwarts not ten feet from the main doors, they made their arrival

"Hey, Neville?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," said the other boy, sounding almost dazed.

"Can you do me a favour?"

He grimaced. "Depends what it is."

"Remind me NEVER to use a portkey again, will you?"

The other boy smiled as Ron snickered. "Yeah, sure thing mate." Neville promised, a lopsided grin breaking out across his face just as the front doors of the castle swung open and standing in front of them was Professor Dumbledore, dressed in vivid orange robes with professors Snape, McGonagall and Flitwick all on his tale.

Dumbledore shook his head, seeming bemused. "Ah, Harry, I suppose if something delightfully unusual is going on, I should have expected you to be at the epicenter of it all, shouldn't I?"

"Probably." Harry admitted.

Dumbledore chuckled but Snape did not. "Couldn't wait for the train, could you Potter? I suppose you wanted to make a grandiose entrance?"

"That will be enough, Severus." Dumbledore scolded lightly, and the man fell silent at once. "Well, I doubt the three of you simply managed to convince the ministry to craft you a portkey because you were so eager. I must ask, therefore, why have you arrived in such an unconventional manner?"

"It's the barrier," said Neville, "it's-it's… sealed I guess."

Dumbledore frowned. "Sealed you say?"

"Yeah, it won't let anyone through, it's just… solid."

"There are aurors looking at it now." Put in Harry. "We ran into Madam Bones — she's an acquaintance of mine and Neville's."

"Ah yes, I suppose she would be. Well, seeing as you are here regardless of circumstance, I suppose it is best that you all retreat to your common rooms to get a head start on unpacking your bags. The rest of the day is yours to do with as you please."

The professors all stepped aside to allow them entrance and Harry walked with his friends, suddenly painfully reminded of the warning he had promised Ginny that he would pass onto Dumbledore.

"You guys go on ahead, I need to use the loo." Neville didn't buy it, Harry knew that from the narrowing of his eyes, and he doubted Ron did either, but neither of them protested, simply shrugging and walking up the stairs. Once they were gone, Harry threw the cloak over himself and waited. Sure enough, footsteps came a minute later and Dumbledore made his way towards the stairs leading up.

"Professor?" Harry asked, taking off his cloak and appearing in front of the man, becoming more than a little bit impressed when the only reaction his sudden appearance warranted was a quirked eyebrow from the ancient headmaster.

"Harry?"

"There are some things I need to tell you if you have time, sir. I-I think they will be important, even if they sound a bit crazy."

The corners of the old man's lips twitched. "Well, I suppose you have asked the right man, for if you ask the opinion of many, I specialize in crazy!" Harry couldn't help but crack a smile at how pleased Dumbledore sounded about such a thing. "Shall we make the trek up to my office then? I can have a house elf deliver your belongings to your dormitory if you would like?"

"Yes sir, that sounds like a good idea."

Minutes later, they were walking towards Dumbledore's office. Harry made to speak but Dumbledore raised his hand. "If what you are going to tell me is as serious as I think it may be, I would ask that you wait until we are in my office, Harry. Unless of course, it is something of a lighter variety you wish to discuss in the meantime?"

Harry was a bit taken aback since there was clearly no one in the vicinity but he just shrugged. "How were your travels, sir?"

The man smiled. "Very taxing if an old man is to tell the truth. As I told you weeks ago, I find my old age does not hold up so well with the task of travel. Alas, it is necessary in my current position, but even amongst all of that, I found it most enjoyable!"

"Where were you for the first month if you don't mind me asking? I know you said you were going to Russia for the ICW? Was it Greece you had said?"

"Mind? Good gracious Harry, why on earth would an old man mind such an innocent question? I did indeed spend the first half of my summer in some of the older parts of Greece, many of which are remnants from what I believe the muggles would refer to as Ancient Greece."

Harry could not help but be jealous. "How was it?" He asked. "I've always wanted to go; I read a lot of books about Ancient Greece and their myths when I was younger."

Dumbledore's smile was sad at his proclamation but it was a smile nonetheless. "I will have to ensure that you find yourself there sometime in the future. Nevertheless, it was certainly the more taxing half of my holiday, but it was very enlightening. I have not learned so much in such a short span of time in many moons."

They had reached the gargoyle now, and Dumbledore winked at Harry before turning to the gargoyle and proclaiming in a voice more proud than Harry had ever heard. "Jelly bean!" The gargoyle jumped aside and Harry couldn't help but quirk his own eyebrow at the headmaster as he fought a smile. "A positively delightful muggle treat I discovered this summer that I am sure you are already familiar with?"

'Second hand thanks to the Dursleys.'

"Yes," he answered, "I never got to eat many of them, but I know what they are."

The sadness returned to Dumbledore's eyes but it lingered there for only a second. "Truly a shame," he noted as they reached the top of the staircase and entered his office. He reached for a bag on his desk and held it out to him, "shall we try and remedy such a travesty?

Harry couldn't help but smile as he took a couple and popped one into his mouth — it was quite good. "Thank you, sir."

"My pleasure, Harry." The older man returned, his eyes twinkling as he too took a small handful. "Now, I must ask what made you so insistent on speaking with me?"

Harry sighed. "You might think it's stupid, but-"

"Harry, I assure you that no matter what you bring forth, I will give it the attention it deserves. I think you will find there is very little you could bring to my attention that I would find to be beyond the levels of oddness I have observed over my years."

'Well, let's put that theory to the test.'

"Well sir, early in August, I was eating breakfast while Mrs. Weasley was out at the market and I was visited by a very strange house elf."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "If I may ask, what was it about the creature you found so strange?"

"Everything really." Harry answered after a moment of pondering. "His outfit was literally a beat up pillow case. He said he was threatened daily with death by his masters and he was — eccentric and seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with me and my greatness." He made air quotes around the last bit and Dumbledore's lips twitched.

"With the exception of the eccentricity and aforementioned obsession, I think you will find that all of those traits, sad as some may be, are not all that unusual among their kind." Harry looked aghast and Dumbledore shook his head. "Come now, Harry, surely you have realized the horrible prejudice that grips our world? Surely you are not surprised that the ire of such men and women would apply to their own elves as well?" Dumbledore scowled. "Why waste valuable time and assets on a creature that has but no choice to serve you? Why waste the aforementioned time and assets on a creature that in most cases, would happily give their life to serve you?" Harry looked horrified as realization dawned on him. "You see now the dilemma that such creatures face." Said Dumbledore, and it was Harry's turn to nod. The headmaster sighed. "Please forgive an old man for his waffling Harry, I fear I have distracted you from your original line of thought. The house elf came to visit you?"

"Yes," said Harry, his mind coming back to the story, "he said I couldn't go back to Hogwarts, sir. He said that horrible things were going to happen at Hogwarts; things that not even you had the power to stop."

"I am far from infallible." Conceded Dumbledore with a sad smile.

"You believe him?"

"Perhaps," the old man answered cryptically, "do you?"

Harry furrowed his brows. "I don't know sir, I think he honestly believes it, but I have no idea if he is right."

"Oh, if he is being truthful, I have little doubt that he is correct. House elves often know far more than wizards give them credit for. Their magic is subtle and though they can not actively oppose their masters, there is nothing stopping them from obtaining their goals and intentions."

"This one seemed to think trouble was coming to Hogwarts." Harry closed his eyes, clearing his mind and trying to remember the conversation the best he could. "I asked him if it had anything to do with Voldemort and he said no but… the way he said it — the look in his eyes — it was almost as if he were trying to hint at something, but I have no idea what it was."

"If he was as concerned for your wellbeing as he seemed, I have no doubt that he was trying to warn you. Unfortunately, house elves are bound to the will of their master, so any help the poor creature attempts to give you must either be subtle or remain undiscovered." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Why in fact, I think it very likely that the elf in question is responsible for the sudden fiasco at platform nine and three quarters."

"You think he sealed the barrier?" Harry asked incredulously.

"It certainly fits," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "it would make sense as well. It would be far easier for an elf to perform such magic. A wizard would need to either undo the barriers enchantments altogether or put into place a ward scheme. Either option would likely take a great deal of time and alert the ministry at once unless the wizard in question was of rather prodigious skill."

"It's starting to look like Dobby may have been right." Said Harry, fidgeting anxiously.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, running a hand through his beard, "thank you for bringing this to my attention, Harry. I am afraid it will be rather difficult for me to take any action not knowing what the danger may be, but you have my word I will stay vigilant and act as best I can once the danger presents itself to the lot of us." Harry nodded and stood. "Before you leave me for the day," Dumbledore called after him, "I think our normal meeting times for Occlumency will suffice. How far have you advanced over the summer?"

"I can keep a blank and clear mind while performing normal tasks as long as they don't take too much thought."

"This is very good!" Beamed Dumbledore appreciatively. "It should only take a few more weeks at most before you can multitask completely unimpeded. I think you will find the branch of supplementary Occlumency rather interesting in its applications towards casting."

Harry nodded. "Is that what we will work on, sir?"

"Oh no," said Dumbledore with a smile, "I will allow you to work on the more obscure applications of Occlumency alone. All of them can be accomplished on one's own with repetitive exercises and the like. I will be teaching you to adequately defend your mind against potential intruders because that, unfortunately, can not be self taught beyond the absolute basics."

Harry nodded as a bit of nervousness creeping up at the thought of anyone in his mind. "Until Friday then, headmaster."

"Why Harry," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eyes, "do not be so farsighted, my boy! A far more accurate statement would be, until tonight, sir! The sorting and welcoming feast awaits us, after all!"

Harry could not help but leave the headmaster's office with a smile on his face.

"Damn, that old man is really growing on me.'

* * *

**September 1st 1992.**

**The Room of Requirement. **

**12:49 PM.**

Harry was more than a little bit surprised when he entered his training room within The Room of Requirement only to find it occupied by a familiar, round faced boy. "Neville?" He asked, a bit taken aback.

"Harry," he said, whirling around with his wand drawn and uttering an audible sigh of relief, "you scared the hell out of me!"

Harry's lips twitched, remembering the time when he had used those exact words on the boy in front of him moments before they went to see the Mirror of Erised together

"Sorry," he said, "what are you doing here?"

"Practicing," Neville told him, "defense mainly, but I want to get better at Transfiguration too."

"I'll make you a deal." Harry proposed as he took out his wand. "I want to see if I can cast the cheering charm or not. I know the theory, but I need somebody to practice on. If you let me try it on you, I'll help you with some defense and transfiguration."

The boy looked apprehensive. "You do know the counter, don't you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course I know the counter."

Neville beamed. "Get on with it then!"

* * *

**September 1st 1992.**

**The Great Hall.**

**6:07 PM.**

Harry and Neville entered the Great Hall just seven minutes after the arranged time to meet up with their other friend, who was the lone occupant of the Gryffindor table. He was sitting in the dead center, somewhere that was almost always occupied by older students.

"And where in the bleeding hell have you two been?" Ron asked in a voice just barely quiet enough that the conversing teachers at the staff table couldn't hear them.

"Practicing." Said Harry with a smile. It had gone quite well; his cheering charm had been perfect and Neville had made leaps and bounds in Transfiguration, especially considering the short time they had to work together.

"Could've told me." Ron grumbled with a roll of his eyes. "Say, Harry, I don't suppose you could help me out a bit this year? I've actually been reading over the summer — OI! Knock it off!" He said when his two friends mimed shock. "No, I'm serious! I wanna better! You don't think you could help me, could you?"

"All you had to do was ask." Said Harry with a smile. "My schedule is a bit packed, but I'll help the lot of you when I can."

"Cheers!" Said Ron appreciatively as the first few students began to filter into the hall, wearing looks of surprise when they saw the trio of Gryffindors seated at the table.

"Where were you lot?!" Exclaimed a pair of voices in unison as the twins took seats opposite Harry and Neville.

"Here." Ron answered simply, wearing a smirk that was oddly reminiscent of the two twins sitting with them. "Bit stupid of you to ask, wasn't it?"

Their eyes narrowed. "Careful Ronikins." Warned Fred.

"Yeah," said George, "you don't want to start something you can't finish."

Ron snorted. "Don't get too full of yourselves just because you double teamed me at Christmas."

"It doesn't matter how many ickle friends you have, Ronikins." Warned George.

"You'll never out prank us!" They proclaimed proudly.

Ron just shook his head. "If you say so."

The pair of older boys grinned mischievous grins. "Oh," they both said, "we do!" And they got up and left, sliding further down the table to sit with their friend, Lee Jordan, who had just taken his own seat at their table.

"What did you just drag me into?" Harry asked exasperatedly, prompting Ron to smile abashedly back at him.

"The prank war of the century, probably. And… uh — sorry about that."

Harry sighed and muttered 'Typical.'

It was at that moment that the fourth member of their quartet took the seat across from Ron as he glared at the three of them. "And where in the hell have you three been?"

They all smirked at each other before looking back to Dean, who looked like he might explode. "Here and there." Ron answered evasively.

Dean snarled as he glared at Harry. "Don't here and there me! I wound up with Parvati and Lavender for the whole damn ride and they wouldn't stop asking me questions about you!" He said, pointing an accusing finger at Harry.

"M-me?" Harry asked, sounding taken aback.

"Yeah," said Dean with a grimace, "not pleasant images some of them, let me tell you."

"Fine," said Harry quickly, wanting to steer the topic away from such things, "we'll tell you where we've been if you'll shut up." Dean nodded and the tale began, with Harry, Ron and Neville all jumping in and out of the story as it progressed.

"Damn," said Dean, "I never knew something like that was possible."

"Dumbledore made it sound like it would be really difficult." Said Harry, choosing, for now, to leave out the bit about Dobby, though he planned on telling at least Neville later.

Their conversation was suddenly cut off as a few dozen new students entered through the side chamber, being led along by their head of house — Professor McGonagall.

"Ginny doesn't look nearly as bad as you did." Harry told Ron, earning him a mock hurt look for his comment. She was nervous, sure, pale and a bit shaky too, but she had not managed anywhere near the delightful shade of green that her brother had turned the year previous.

Though he still wasn't tall by any means, Harry at least took some comfort in the fact that he was certain he was taller than all but maybe two or three of the new arrivals, though that was more due to their height than his own.

Professor McGonagall led them into the center of the hall where she placed the spindle legged stool Harry remembered sitting on all too vividly and then, from the pocket of her robes, she pulled out the ancient Hogwarts sorting hat and the room fell silent as the brim opened wide like a mouth.

Many things change with the passing of time

but the four Hogwarts houses remain in their prime!

For time may pass, and values may change

but foundations stand strong if diligently arranged.

There were two great wizards, two great witches

who wanted nothing more than to pass on their wisdom.

Years and years were taught by the four

and many wondered what would happen when they walked out the door.

The founders foresaw this, and a plan they devised

for they needed things to be seen through their wise old eyes.

'Twas Gryffindor who schemed as he took me off his head,

he whipped out his wand, gave it a twirl and let me choose instead!

Now I await you!

The generations anew!

The houses define much, future, friends and foes

so you'll put me on, I'll have a look and tell you where to go!

For each great founder there stands a house, each built from greatness and prestige

so now I will explain to you what each house stands to mean.

First of all there's GRYFFINDOR

where thrive the noble and courageous!

Their bravery and chivalry have defined them all for ages!

Next up we have HUFFLEPUFF

where the lot are kind and loyal!

Underestimating such people could truly be your foil.

Thirdly there is RAVENCLAW

for those most studious among us.

Rowena valued intelligence, to her our brain defined us!

And then of course there's SLYTHERIN

where ambition rules the masses.

Opposing one of cunning is asking for disaster.

Different they may be, yet they shouldn't stand divided.

For the founders goal was singular and far from quadruple sided.

Though much is the same, time does cause some blunders

perhaps none more so than the houses torn asunder.

Each one has their values, and oh yes, each one has their flaws.

None of us are perfect, not me, not you, not those who lay the law.

'Tis our values that define us, and this the founders knew.

So put me on, let's have a chat, and begin your life anew!"

The students burst into applause upon the conclusion of the hat's song. Harry and the rest listened intently to the sorting, applauding loudly with the rest when a small, mousy haired boy by the name of Colin Creevey became the first new Gryffindor.

Harry only recognized a couple of names in the early goings, those belonging to a pair of twins — Flora and Hestia Carrow. The name was one he knew had served Voldemort during The Purity War, and he instantaneously made a mental note to remain wary of them.

The next name he recognized did not come until near the end of the sorting, when a tall blonde by the name of "Slater, Laine." was introduced.

'Powerful political family — neutral faction, I think.'

If his memory served him correctly, they were one of the major contributors to the faction within the Wizengamot that was led by Daphne's family. As if in confirmation of his musings, the hat sent her off to Slytherin with little to no hesitation.

After a few more minutes, finally, "Weasley, Ginevra" was called to the stool, and Ginny made her way towards it on shaky legs.

"Does she still look better than me?" Ron asked, clearly trying to hide his nervousness with humour.

"Much." Harry told him dryly, earning himself a shove from Ron.

Harry had been sure that like all others in the Weasley clan, Ginny was a shoe in for Gryffindor, but after the hat had remained upon her head for the better part of three minutes, he became less and less sure of that statement. He could feel Ron beside him tensing more and more as the time passed.

Finally, after what was nearly five minutes, the brim of the hat opened wide and it loudly proclaimed "GRYFFINDOR!" to the relief of all of the Weasleys. Harry could quite literally feel the tension leaving Ron's body.

A second later, Ginny had taken a seat near the end of the table, and Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet as Professor McGonagall swept from the hall with the stool and hat in hand.

"A most marvellous of evenings to you all!" Greeted Dumbledore, beaming at the lot of them as if every single one of them were a long lost friend of his. "The time is nearing for an old man's wheezing waffle, but it has not yet come. Dig in!" And food of all varieties appeared on the golden plates in front of them, causing many to whistle appreciatively as they began to dig into their meals.

"That was the longest I've ever seen the hat take." Ron muttered, but Harry shrugged.

"It took awhile with me, but I don't know how long it actually was."

"Yeah," said Ron, as if he were thinking of the event for the first time, "I always wondered about that. What took it so long?"

Harry internally winced.

'Way to go Potter, you walked right into that one.'

"It was debating between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw." He answered, conveniently leaving out the house of serpents. He had no idea how that would go over with Ron, and he didn't really want to test the fact. Plus, he wasn't lying, just telling two thirds of the truth.

Ron scowled. "Dumb question, I should've known." He said with a roll of his eyes. "How Granger landed in Gryffindor, I'll never know."

'Oh, I have a pretty good idea.' Thought Harry, remembering back to how she had tried her best to guard the third floor corridor against intruders.

He looked down the table, green eyes searching her out for the first time since the debacle. His eyes found her not a moment later. She was sitting near the first years, talking rather animatedly with the mousy haired Gryffindor.

'I do hope she finds some friends.'

He still felt rather guilty about the whole fiasco with the stone, even though he knew that he had no part in her being imperiused nor memory wiped of the whole thing.

They ate mostly in silence, speaking of their last few weeks of summer and verbally abusing Malfoy and his cronies; It was a good laugh. At last though, the desserts too vanished and Dumbledore got to his feet once again, prompting silence to fall without any true effort on his part.

"I would like to warmly welcome each and every one of you back to Hogwarts!" He said, the twinkle in his eyes working on overdrive.

'How the hell does he do that?'

"Speaking of warmth, there are a few start of term notices that must be addressed before I send you all back to the comfort of your beds in droves.

"Firstly, first years should note that the forest on the edge of the grounds is strictly forbidden for what I assure you are completely legitimate reasons." His eyes briefly passed over the Gryffindor table. "Though directed at the youngest among us, I always feel that others may learn from such words of wisdom as well." His eyes flicked almost imperceptibly towards the Weasley twins before he continued.

"In addition, the caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind all of you that magic is expressly forbidden in the corridors, as are three-hundred-and-eighty-seven other things that can all be viewed in Mr. Filch's office for your reading pleasure." There were a few chuckles as Filch glared at the lot of them from the very end of the staff table.

"Quidditch tryouts, if applicable, will be carried out by your house captains and set up at their leisure. If you are interested in acquiring yourself a most prestigious position on your house team, please present your name and preferred position to your head of house by the end of the weekend.

"And finally, Hogwarts has the most honoured privilege of welcoming a new professor into its hallowed halls, one that is far more decorated than most who have come before him." The students muttered excitedly as Dumbledore gestured to a beaming Lockhart. "It is my honour and privilege to welcome Professor Gilderoy Lockhart onto our staff. He is a man who has far more experience confronting the darkest of arts than just about anybody, aside, of course, if you will forgive my lack of modesty, from me." This raised a fair few chuckles as Professor Lockhart swept to his feet and went into a deep, elaborate bow.

"Now," said Dumbledore once Lockhart had retaken his seat, "I could practically see the longing in your eyes when I spoke of beds and warmth, and I shall not keep you from them any longer."

The scraping of hundreds of benches could be heard as everyone clambered to their feet and began to make their way towards their respective common rooms and Harry could not, for the life of him, manage to keep the smile off of his face.

'It's good to be home.'

* * *

**Authors Endnote:**

**I know this chapter is technically out about an hour early but I'm bored and I doubt you lot are compaining.**

**It's a bit of a filler chapter but oh well, what can you do?**

**The sorting hat's song is one of my own creation and I've never considered myself remotely skillful when it came to poetry, so please take it easy on me in the reviews. I thought it was only right to include one since Rowling never did in canon and if there is any time to start trying new things, it is now. **

**Please read and review. **

**PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, April 5th 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	20. LOS Ch 5: Projects and Pixies

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.

**Parseltongue. **

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 5: Let's See What You Make of Them!**

**September 2nd 1992.**

* * *

**September 2nd 1992.**

**Gryffindor Tower.**

**5:34 AM.**

Harry rose early the day after their arrival at Hogwarts due to mainly excitement at being back at the castle. He hadn't actually slept too badly and felt rather alert despite the hour. Figuring he best take advantage of the ample time remaining before breakfast, Harry quickly showered, got dressed and threw his invisibility cloak over himself, making his way out of the tower and towards his favourite room in Hogwarts. A room that just so happened to be on the same floor as their common room, something he had always found rather convenient.

Harry smiled as his familiar setup greeted him upon entering The Room of Requirement. Taking a seat at his desk, Harry took Dumbledore's own guide to Occlumency from his bag and opened it, flipping to the topic his headmaster had mentioned the day previous.

_Supplementary Occlumency and its Applications in Casting. _

_By clearing your mind, you are simultaneously mastering your emotions. Magic is as much based upon intent as anything else, and the very concept of intent is categorically fuelled by one's emotions. By clearing one's mind of emotions and allowing your mind to rest solely upon the intent in which you will use to drive your spell, the speed of your casting will increase drastically, as will, in most simple cases, the effectiveness and efficiency of the casting. By casting in such a manner, you will actually utilize less magic and garner the same if not greater results. _

_The exception to this is, of course, both esoteric magic and spells that can be bolstered by one's emotion if they know how to channel them._

'What the hell is esoteric magic?'

He perused the room for quite a time to find the answer, but blessed with the gift to present him with what he wanted, it did not take Harry nearly as long as he had feared it may to find that esoteric magic was magic that hinged solely on emotion. Magic that, if an emotional requirement was not met by the caster, was not likely to work at all.

The only example Harry could think of off the top of his head was the boggart banishing spell he had read about over the summer — Riddikulus. The person had to conjure up an image that would be truly amusing to them in order to cast it, but without the amusement itself, the spell would be utterly ineffective.

'So, for spells of a singular and basic purpose, I should clear my mind when casting.'

It seemed almost too simple to work, but it did. Mind you, Harry still had issues with clearing his mind while still focusing on a singular task at the same time, so this made focusing on the intent of his spell difficult, thereby rendering the method less effective than he knew it would be in a few weeks once he managed to effortlessly multi-task as Dumbledore had promised he would. The result of the lesser intent due to his Occlumency was that at his current stage, the spells lacked their usual punch, though he already noticed that he could cast them much faster.

'Once I work out this multi-tasking thing, this will be very useful.'

In class, he would still cast traditionally until he managed to multi-task efficiently, as he wanted his spells to be as effective as possible, but on his own, this was something to work on for certain.

By the time his experimenting had come to a close, it was already nearing 8:15, and Harry figured it best if he got to The Great Hall and got something to eat. The potions for his nutrition were certainly working, something made evident not just by the fact that he was now taller than at least almost all of the girls in his year and some of the boys as well, but by the fact that he actually had an appetite for three meals a day as opposed to only two like when he had first started taking the potions over a year ago. He still had to take them, and he had been assured the effects were far from finished, but he was grateful for what they had done. It was what gave him the resolve to take a vial out of his bag and down it on his way to breakfast.

When he entered the hall, he quickly spotted his three friends and took the seat they had saved for him. "Do you ever sleep?" Asked Ron, actually sounding serious.

"No," said Harry with a roll of his eyes, "I haven't slept in six years. That's my secret; how I'm so far ahead of you lot."

Ron just shook his head. "With how bloody early you're up, you'd think it's true." He muttered, causing Harry to shake his head in return as the owl post entered the room. To Harry's great surprise, an owl landed in front of him, one that he had not seen before. Curious but cautious after the poisoned tart, he cast a few basic detection spells he had read up on before opening it and reading the letter.

_Potter,_

_Seeing as I can't get to you at Hogwarts, I'm giving you some homework for the first term on top of silent casting._

_You'll have the blasting curse mastered non verbally by Christmas. I will be testing you, and you'll complete the following routine each morning:_

_5 km run_

_Push-ups to failure_

_Crunches to failure_

_Burpees to failure_

_100m sprints to failure _

_Squat jumps to failure_

_Split lunges to failure_

_Plank to failure._

_This is the standard physical routine for a new auror recruit, and Merlin knows you need it._

_Don't disappoint me,_

_Moody._

_PS: There are moving diagrams of the exercises on the back of the parchment if you don't know them. _

_No excuses!_

'The blasting curse non verbally by Christmas? Has he gone mental? I can't cast non verbally yet and I haven't even learned that curse!'

"Who's it from?" Asked Ron with some curiosity.

"Moody," grumbled Harry with a sigh, "he's a mad man."

"Bit late to the party on that thought, mate." Said Ron with a smile. "A lot of the auror office says he's crazy. Some even say he should retire."

"He's brilliant," Harry defended him honestly, "but he's mad. The old psycho wants me to master silent casting by Christmas! And to master a spell that's… I don't even know what year in curriculum — above O.W.L's probably."

Ron whistled. "Seems like Merlin will be put to the test." He said with a smirk, relishing at his friend's struggle as it was something he saw so rarely before.

"Laugh it up now," bit back Harry with a smirk of his own, "it won't be so funny when I can curse your pants off without saying a word, will it?"

Ron paled for a moment before they were distracted by the delivering of their time tables. Herbology, History, Charms and Astronomy that night.

"Pretty chill first day," said Dean appreciatively, "I was hoping we'd have Lockhart though. I want to see what he teaches us!"

"Bet he's a fraud." Said Ron darkly out of pure spite.

'So do I Ron, so do I.'

"Hey," voiced the red-head to Harry, "when do you lot start practicing?"

"Practicing?"

"Quidditch!"

"Oh… no clue, ask Oliver. I'm sure he already has it all figured out."

"He can't have even booked the pitch yet, can he?" Neville asked sceptically.

Harry just shot his best mate a dark look. "You haven't spent enough time with him yet, Neville. Never doubt Oliver Wood's supernatural abilities with anything related to Quidditch. It's crazy what an obsession will do for you."

Neville just shrugged. "If you say so. Should we get going? The greenhouses are a bit of a walk."

"You just want to play with the plants before the lesson." Teased Harry, but he obliged his friend nonetheless, standing and pulling his bag over his shoulder as their other two friends mirrored their movements.

Neville wasn't completely making it up, it did take a fair bit of time to reach the greenhouses, though they did arrive early. To his friend's dismay however, the greenhouses were not open and Professor Sprout, at least for the moment, was conspicuous through her absence.

"Weird," noted Neville, "she's hardly ever gone from the greenhouses, even when she's not teaching."

"Still eating maybe?" Voiced Ron as the rest of the class began to close in from behind them.

"I didn't see her in the hall when we left." Dean put in with a frown as the rest of the class now also began to close ranks around the greenhouse, many of them muttering about the same mystery that concerned the Gryffindor quartet.

Just as the bell was about to ring to signal the beginning of the class, the professor came marching around the greenhouse, several pots in her arms and a particularly disgruntled expression on her face. Beside her walked another man, one wearing flowing robes of magenta. When Lockhart saw the gathered students, he frowned, looking apologetic.

"So sorry to keep your professor from you." He told them boisterously, "I was just showing Professor Sprout the most efficient way of fertilizing a whomping willow, you know. Mind you, not that her way was wrong, but I have encountered a great number of them on my travels, and as prodigious as Pomona here may be, the experience I have gained over the years remains invaluable." He wagged a finger at the lot of them almost chastisingly. "Now, don't go around telling everybody that I know more about Herbology than your professor; that would be ridiculous. I just happen to be quite well versed in this particular branch of the subject." Lockhart made a show of glancing down at his watch before smiling at Professor Sprout. "It has been a pleasure working with you, professor, but I really must be going — lessons to plan after all, and I see you have an eager class awaiting you." With a tip of his hat and a bow of his head, Lockhart was off, not noticing the most uncharacteristic scowl that Professor Sprout was giving his retreating form.

'If that doesn't prove that every word of that story was bull, I don't know what does.'

"Right," said Sprout a bit tightly before willing herself to sigh and smile at the lot of them, "greenhouse two today chaps!" This caused a stir among the second years gathered as they followed her towards the aforementioned greenhouse. Up to this point, they had only ever worked in greenhouse one with more tame plant varieties. Greenhouses two and onwards housed the more dangerous stock that was kept by Hogwarts.

"I wonder what we'll be working on?" Mused Neville excitedly, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as they followed the squat professor.

"Don't ask us," Harry told him with an indulgent smile, "you'd have a better idea than the lot of us put together."

When they had all entered the greenhouse and split into groups of four, Professor Sprout began her lecture.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, ladies and gents. I decided a good, high paced Herbology lesson would be just the thing you all needed to get whipped back into shape in a hurry, and I thought you best make yourselves useful at the same time, so you'll be working with some plants that we grow here at Hogwarts each and every year and sell for a very large profit. I have to warn you all though," she said a bit sternly, "though far from lethal at their current stage, these will be the most dangerous plants you have dealt with thus far."

'Well, I don't think she's counting the devil's snare I ran into last June.'

"Now," she said once their excited, if a bit nervous chatter had died down, "can anybody tell me what Mandrakes are used for?"

Four hands hit the air, Harry's, who knew of the plants properties from a potions lecture with Daphne, Neville's, who had probably known for years now, as well as Hermione Granger's and Ernie Macmillon's. Professor Sprout nodded encouragingly at Harry, as though he had managed an O in the subject last year, he rarely volunteered information in the class.

"They have very strong restorative properties and are therefore used mainly in potions with the goal of countering strong effects from a number of situations."

"Very good!" Congratulated Professor Sprout. "Five points to Gryffindor. Now, who can tell me why these plants are so dangerous?"

Two hands rose this time, Hermione's and Neville's, who Sprout indicated to with a kind smile.

"Once fully grown, their cry, which they use as soon as they are uprooted can be fatal."

"On point as ever, Neville, take five more points to Gryffindor." Neville beamed. "Too right. The ones we are working with today are only infants, so their cry will only knock you out for a couple of hours, but it's still best to avoid that if we can." She withdrew her wand and gave it a wave, causing a bucket of large, rather fluffy looking ear muffs to float over towards her. "Your task will be to repot the mandrakes as shown on page 111 of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi._ Do not take off your earmuffs until I give the all clear at the end of the class. We don't need any trips to the hospital wing, least of all on the first day." They all nodded. "Well," she prompted with an eager smile, "get to it!"

It turned out that the Mandrakes did not share any of Professor Sprout's enthusiasm when it came to their repotting; they were clearly not nearly as fond of the idea. It was the first time Harry had ever truly worked with a plant that fought back and if he were being honest, he could say that he had certainly had more enjoyable experiences at the castle, though working with Neville pretty much ensured that he, Ron and Dean made it out of the class unscathed. That was far more than he could say for a large number of the first year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs alike.

Though unscathed, Harry found himself rather fatigued by the end of the double period and darkly, he thought that if Moody could see him now, he would be snarling that such weakness was all the more reason for his training regiment.

'Old codger has a point though.'

The only class they had remaining that day was History of Magic, that was, if one discounted that night's Astronomy lesson. Harry, as usual, studied other material in history, knowing he would just read the textbook on his own time and likely still pull off easy O's in the subject.

When the class had finished, Ron sighed the moment they were out the door. "Blimey, that was one of our easy days and I already feel brain dead. We haven't even done Astronomy yet."

"You probably feel brain dead because you just walked out of Binns' class." Pointed out Dean reasonably, prompting Ron to sigh.

"Yeah, suppose you're right. Any of you have plans for the rest of the day?"

Dean and Neville shook their head and Ron looked questioningly at Harry.

"Not really, I was just going to study a bit."

"Can you pass up studying for a day?"

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I really need to practice Quidditch so I don't look like an idiot when the team starts practicing."

Harry weighed his options for a few moments but in the end, he really did enjoy spending time in the air far too much to pass up the opportunity, especially now, while his brain still felt like mush courtesy of Binns. There was plenty of time to study.

"If you'd like." He said with an indulgent grin, causing Ron to return him a rather enthusiastic variant of his own.

"Brilliant!"

Their time spent in the air had been fairly enjoyable, and Harry found that it had been a rather good tune up for him. As a reserve, Ron would be tasked with filling in for any position that was needed, so they practiced a bit of everything. Harry got to practice alongside and against Ron as a chaser, something that was good seeing as he liked to handle the quaffle quite a bit in games when he could get a way with it. On top of that, he got to try his hand as a beater, something he was thoroughly rubbish at, and as a keeper, a position that he did not envy whatsoever.

By the time the two boys landed back on the pitch with broad grins, Harry found himself both exhausted and elated in equal measure. It had been among the most enjoyable hours he had ever spent in the air.

When the two had showered and finally trekked their way back up to the castle, it was dinner time, and they found both Neville and Dean sitting at the table accompanied by, to Harry's surprise, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.

'Odd.'

When Dean saw Harry and Ron, his face took on a look of what almost appeared to be relief.

'Odder still.'

"'Bout time you two decided to grace us with your presence." Snarked Dean, causing Harry to crook an eyebrow as Ron rolled his eyes and responded without missing a beat.

"Well, if we did it too often, you might take our greatness for granted, you know?" The two girls giggled and Neville spat pumpkin juice all over his food, prompting everyone around them to laugh even harder.

"Nice one, mate! Slick as ever!" Said Harry, clapping Neville hard on the back several times before taking a seat beside him, not noticing that Parvati and Lavender had giggled as much at his passing remark as they had Ron's witty one.

"Harry," asked Parvati, causing Harry to look at her curiously, "um, when are you planning to do Binns's essay? I wasn't really paying attention today and could really use some help with it."

Harry peered at her skeptically but answered anyway. "Whenever I feel like it, I guess. I wasn't paying attention either; I'm just going to read the chapter from the textbook and do my essay off of that."

"Oh," said Parvati, looking almost disappointed, "what about Herbology?"

Harry looked at Neville who rolled his eyes. "I'm doing mine tonight." He answered.

"There you go." Harry answered with an abashed smile. He turned his attention onto Dean, who had his timetable out. "What have we got tomorrow?"

"Two double periods; Transfiguration and Defense!" He sounded rather excited and Harry couldn't really blame him. He knew that Dean did not share his scepticism over Lockhart, and Transfiguration was his friend's best subject.

"Should be interesting." He answered diplomatically, to which most around him responded with exasperated stares.

"Interesting?" Spoke up Lavender. "We're going to be taught by one of the bravest and most brilliant men alive and you think it will just be interesting?"

'Well, I've been taught by Dumbledore. I doubt Lockhart will hold a candle to that.' Harry thought, but he did not dare voice that aloud.

"I'm pretty far ahead in those subjects." He said honestly. "I doubt there will be anything brought up that I don't know already."

"Will there be anything brought up this year you don't know already?" Asked Neville, sounding exasperated.

"Probably." Said Harry, not mentioning the fact that if there was, it wasn't going to be in those two subjects. They ate with simple small talk being exchanged until Harry finished his smaller portion of food and asked Neville, "What time are you gonna do that essay?" to which the other boy just scratched his head.

"I dunno, I'm gonna take a bit of a break after dinner and we have to be up until midnight for Astronomy anyways so like — 10?"

"Sounds good." Harry said, standing from the table and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Where are you going Harry?" Lavender asked, but before Harry could answer, three voices, those of Dean, Neville, and Ron answered.

"To practice."

Harry smiled to himself as he left the hall, knowing that soon, he would have to wipe away that amusement in order to clear his mind over and over again until he could effortlessly and efficiently multitask.

* * *

**September 3rd 1992. **

**Gryffindor Tower.**

**5:00 AM. **

The next morning, Harry woke up at 5:00 AM on the dot, though this time, it was done consciously, as he wished to get Moody's brutal workout regime out of the way without other students gawking at him in what would likely be his darkest hour. Figuring it would be best to shower after the workout, Harry quickly got dressed and began to walk down to the common room. He found himself more than a little bit surprised when he entered the room to find the fire still burning merrily and a figure sitting in front of him, made evident only by her silhouette. A moment later, Harry recognized the fiery red hair and his body relaxed a bit, knowing that at least now, he wasn't likely to be the center of gossip throughout the school.

"Ginny?" He asked, causing the girl to jump about a foot into the air. Harry winced.

'How did I not realize that was going to scare her?'

"Harry!" She hissed in a quiet voice, seeming more surprised than annoyed. "What are you doing up at this time?"

"I could ask you the same thing." He said, walking closer to her and noticing that something had fallen to the floor when she had jumped. He stooped to grab it but wasn't fast enough. Ginny hastily scrambled to retrieve it for herself. "Still not sleeping well?" He asked, trying to pass over the awkward moment.

"I slept ok," said Ginny, but Harry was let into the lie by the small bags under her eyes, "I just went to bed really early so I woke up early too."

"How was your first day?" Harry asked, choosing to not call Ginny on what seemed to be a fairly harmless bluff.

Ginny's face lit up. "It was great!" She enthused. "Professor Flitwick seems like a brilliant teacher! I'm most looking forward to Charms!"

"He is quite good." Agreed Harry. "You guys won't be casting anything practical for quite a while though.'

Ginny nodded. "I heard." She said, sounding a bit crestfallen.

He smiled at her in an apologetic manner. "If it makes you feel any better, Professor McGonagall had us trying transfigurations right away, so you should at least have that to look forward to." Ginny nodded again and Harry began to turn towards the portrait hole leading out of the common room.

"Where are you off too at this time of day?" Ginny asked him, sounding baffled.

"Library." Lied Harry, not seeing the near imperceptible narrowing of Ginny's eyes as he slid effortlessly through the portrait hole. Once Harry had left, Ginny flipped open her diary and made to write once more but to her surprise, words already awaited her.

_Did I say something to upset you? It seems that you're taking more time to answer than is normal for you._

Ginny blushed at the words but wrote back at once, equally as entranced with Riddle and his diary as she had been that first night back at The Burrow.

_No, of course not, Tom, don't be silly. I just got distracted by Harry. He said he was going to the library but I know he wasn't. It's like what you described to me — the feeling you used to get when you knew somebody was lying to you. _

There was a longer pause than Ginny was typically accustomed to before Riddle's response made itself present.

_You are a fast learner, Ginny. That took me much longer to pick up on. Oh, and if you don't mind me asking, who is this Harry you speak of?_

* * *

**September 3rd 1992.**

**The Great Hall.**

**8:05 AM.**

After a long, extensive shower, Harry strolled into the Great Hall with his body aching and his mind cursing the name of Mad Eye Moody with every colourful invention it could come up with. His friends had, as always, saved him a seat, and he positively slumped into it and had to resist the urge to just fold forwards and let his head rest on the table.

"Tough workout then?" Dean asked, smirking at the clear discomfort Harry was in.

"No," bit back Harry with as much sarcasm as he could muster as he reached for some eggs and toast, "it was clearly a cake walk. Can't you tell?" One side effect of the exercise, or at least he was assuming it was a side effect of the exercise was that most unusually for him, he actually felt rather famished. Sure, he had evolved from the point of not being able to stomach food in the morning to managing some fruit and yogurt, but this morning, Harry was drawing sceptical looks from his three friends at the pile of eggs and three pieces of toast he pulled towards him. "Well, I just burned about a hundred thousand calories." He hyperbolized to the three of them, causing them to just shrug and go back to their own food.

"Lockhart after breakfast!" Enthused Dean. "It's about time we learn something in that class!"

"Bet he's useless." Ron reasserted, stabbing rather viciously at one of his own eggs.

"Can't be if he's done all that." Dean pointed out, but Ron just rolled his eyes, seeming to decide that his eggs were a better expense of his energy than responding to Dean's defense.

After a few minutes of eating, Harry was startled by the clearing of a throat from behind him. He turned, looking into the eyes of a very small, very mousy haired boy, the same boy who had been the first to be sorted into Gryffindor.

"Can I help you?" He asked, trying to keep his tone neutral, not really wanting to give off any vibe at all.

"Y-y-you're Harry P-Potter, aren't you?" Asked the firsty, his eyes roaming almost hungrily across Harry's forehead. Harry sighed, moving his hair aside and exposing the lightning bolt scar that he knew the boy was looking for.

"In the flesh." He said a bit dryly, causing the boy's mouth to fall agape.

"C-c-can I get a photo with you?" He asked, holding up what Harry recognized to be a muggle camera. "I've heard I can get the photos to move with a potion and I'd love to send one back to my dad! I'm Muggleborn, you see. it was such a surprise when I got my letter and I'd love to keep him up to date. My name is Colin Creevy, can I have one picture, just one photo, please?"

"Well, well, well," came a drawling voice that caused Colin to jump. From behind him stepped Malfoy and his ever present goons, Crabbe and Goyle. "Sunk to a new low, have you Potter?" Malfoy let his eyes roam all over the hall before he bellowed loud enough for most to hear. "Look everyone, line up! Harry Potter is giving out signed photos!" The hall's attention was quickly drawn onto the scene and Harry was blushing furiously, having been put in a situation that he was not at all comfortable with.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy!" Spat Ron, drawing his wand and prompting Crabbe and Goyle to do the same, but Ron just scoffed at them. "You two idiots would be better off to punch me. What are you gonna do with those things? News flash idiots, you need a brain to use a wand!" They both snarled but Malfoy cut in once more.

"Weasley wants a signed photo, Potter. It would be worth more than his whole family's house." Ron made to lunge for Malfoy but another voice cut in, one that Harry hadnot been expecting.

"What's going on here?" The voice did not sound upset, on the contrary, it sounded positively jovial, if a bit curious. When he saw Harry, Lockhart's face split into an ear to ear grin. "Ah, Harry Potter, we meet again! Signed photos my dear boy? I would not have guessed you had reached such a level yet. It's always important to know your standing Harry, just remember that. Personally, with no disrespect meant of course, I'm not quite sure you're at that level of stardom yet but alas, if the boy wants one, I suppose you can not truly be at fault." He smiled a perfect smile and practically dragged Harry out of his seat. "You must cater to the public, Harry, it is something I am sure you will learn in dear time." He turned to Colin. "I'll tell you what, dear boy, you can have one of the both of us!" Colin beamed as Malfoy scowled before shooting one last victorious smirk at Harry before leaving with Crabbe and Goyle and Harry was left scheming over how he would best enact his revenge on the blonde haired git.

Soon enough, the meal had concluded and they were off to the class that had been more talked about than any other.

"You better hope Creevy doesn't meet Ginny," said Ron as they neared the door to Lockhart's classroom, "or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."

"Shut up!" Harry snapped at Ron. The last thing he needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase "Harry Potter fanclub"

'Git already seems jealous enough as it is.'

"Besides," he argued, "Ginny hasn't actually been that bad at all."

"She's hid it better than I thought she'd manage." Agreed Ron. "But trust me mate, you have no idea." He allowed his voice to trail off as they reached Lockhart's classroom door. When they opened the door and stepped inside, Harry could have gagged in disgust when his eyes roamed over the room.

Last year, Quirrell had turned this very room into a sort of dark, dingy place that had seemed to have served as a trap for a vampire that Harry was now sure had been a figment of fiction, but aside from that, the room had been fairly nondescript. Now, the room seemed to serve as a personal shrine to its lone occupant, with the beaming, overlarge face of Gilderoy Lockhart smiling down at the lot of them from every nook and cranny of the room.

"Bloody hell," breathed Ron in apparent disbelief, "this bloke is mental!"

"Ah yes, the stragglers." Said the man himself as Harry and his quartet seemed to be the last to enter the room. "If one of you fine gentlemen would be so kind as to close the door." Dean closed the door and they all took seats, prompting the class to fall completely silent though some, notably Parvati, Lavender, Hermione and Dean seemed to be leaning forward as if they were hanging on every word that had not yet been spoken.

Lockhart plucked Hermione's copy of _Travelling With Trolls_ off the top of her pile, since she sat in the front most row of desks and turned it to display his own beaming portrait to the class at large.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking along with the photo, "Gilderoy Lockhart. Order of Merlin Third Class, Honorary member of The Dark Force Defense League and five time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award, but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Banden Banshee by smiling at her." He waited for them to laugh but when none did, he pressed on. "I see you've all bought a complete set of my books! Well done! I thought we would start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about, just to check how much you've read them, to see how much you've taken in."

Harry's heart immediately sank for two reasons. One was the fact that his worst fears had seemingly been confirmed immediately upon reading the first number of questions, which all pertain to Lockhart's personal entries within the tomes. And two, because Harry hadn't really read the books much at all. Once he had found them to be stories more than textbooks, he had simply skimmed them for the actual defense material, as he had found himself with more important things to do than read stories he was not even entirely sold on.

Half an hour later, Lockhart had collected the quizzes and was rifling through them with a rather disgruntled expression on his face. "Tut, tut, hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour is lilac. I say so in _Year With The Yeti. _And a few of you need to read _Wanderings With Werewolves _more carefully. I clearly state that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non magic peoples, though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey." He gave them another roguish wink, seeming oblivious to the looks of stunned incredulity that marred many of their faces.

'If Moody could see how I was being taught defense, the old codger would have a stroke.'

The only person who seemed to still remain invested in the class was Hermione, who positively swelled when she was praised for her perfect answers by Lockhart, something that caused her to throw a rather smug look back at Harry.

'What's that about?'

"And now to business." He said, snapping most of them out of their stupers as he bent down and retrieved a large, covered cage from beneath his desk and placed it on top of the aforementioned surface. "Now be warned," he cautioned them all, "it is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizard kind. You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you while I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm." In spite of himself, Harry leaned forward for a better look at the cage. Fraud or no fraud, this would already appear to be more than they had done in their entire first year, though when noting the fact that the teacher had been employed by Voldemort, Harry supposed such a fact didn't speak much to Lockhart nor his character.

Lockhart placed a hand on the cover and the class's attention was truly on the man for the first time in several minutes. "I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice, "it might provoke them." As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover. "Yes!" He said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish Pixies!"

Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself and let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart could not mistake as a scream of terror.

"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.

"Well-well, they're not very dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked out.

"Don't be so sure," said Lockhart as he wiggled a finger at Seamus, "devilishly tricky little buggers they can be." Harry found it unlikely that anything electric blue and eight inches high were very dangerous, but he did not comment. "Well, let's see what you make of them." And he ripped open the cage.

'You've got to be joking!'

It was pandemonium.

The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them tried to seize Neville by the ears, but were struck down by two well placed full body bind curses. Seamus Finnigan was evidently not as fast, and he quickly found himself dangling from the chandelier. Several of the creatures shot straight out of the open window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest chose to destroy the classroom with ink bottles and whatever else they could find. Within seconds, the class was in a panic.

"Come now," cried Lockhart, "they're only pixies." One jumped at the man himself and he dove to the side comically.

'Oh for the love of Merlin.' Thought Harry, snapping his wand into his hand with a flick of his wrist.

"Flagrete!"

The fire streamed from the tip of Harry's wand and bathed all nearby pixies not close enough to anyone to put them in danger in its brilliant orange light. Flagrete, a firespell that unlike Incendio could be manipulated more freely was a spell that had been taught to Harry by Moody over the summer and seeing as this was his first time really trying it, he was rather impressed with the results. He had wondered at first as to how he would deal with the pixies who were currently attacking his classmates but as soon as they saw the flames attacking their brethren, they quickly dove out of the open window in retreat.

Within seconds, the pixies were gone and the class was in awed silence, Harry, for his part, simply holstered his wand and stormed out of the class, not even looking back at the scorch marks he had left behind.

* * *

**September 4th 1992.**

**The Defense Against The Dark Arts Classroom.**

**2:16 PM.**

"Well," breathed Lockhart, his heart rate speeding up with some nerves as he prepared to open his second cage of Cornish Pixies in as many days, "let's see what you make of them!" He hadn't quite loved the results of the first time he had unleashed them but after all, he was sure first years would not resort to fire. If he were being honest, he was glad that Potter had stopped them at all, because for a fleeting moment, he had feared that none would be able to stop them.

That fear rose up again as the first year Gryffindors he was teaching were being thoroughly throttled by the pixies and he feared for a moment he would have to intervene and hope for the best. Just as the thought occurred to him however, he suddenly felt a moment of weightlessness and then a great impact that drove all the air from his body, hearing muffled cries of pain from others in the room as well.

It took him several moments to recover and clamber to his feet. The room was in shambles. It appeared as if all of the desks had been thrown, much like the occupants of the room, outwards from its center point and slammed against the wall. Luckily, all of the students seemed to be ok, if a bit shaken up. In the center of the room though, standing with the pixies floating around her completely immobilized as she twirled her wand between her fingers was one Ginny Weasley.

"M-M-Ms. Weasley," Lockhart managed to choke out, "w-what spell did you use to defeat the pixies, my dear?"

Instead of answering, Ginny simply reached out and gently plucked a now helpless pixie from the air around her and examined it before returning a question of her own. "Can I keep him, professor?"

Still speechless and a bit dazed, Lockhart could do nothing but not, thinking that the two years he had thought would be the easiest to manage were turning out to be his biggest problems thus far.

* * *

**Authors Endnote:**

**Well, there's the first few days of Hogwarts in the books.**

**Some filler admittedly, some cannon events, and some events that certainly don't fall into either of the former categories. **

**Please read and review. **

**PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, April 12 at approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	21. LOS Ch 6: Meetings, Murmurs and Mudblood

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.

**Parseltongue. **

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 6: Meetings, Murmurs and Mudbloods.**

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**September 4th 1992.**

**The Headmaster's Office.**

**7:00 PM**

As was now his standard course of action, Harry merely pushed the door open without invitation knowing that the call of "enter" would come long before his hand reached the handle. When he stepped into the room, he remarked at how extraordinary yet how familiar the room looked. Nothing seemed to have changed over the summer, though the many spectacular looking artifacts and devices still enchanted him.

Well, maybe he shouldn't say that nothing had changed. For the first time since the start of these meetings, Dumbledore did not immediately look up from his task upon Harry's entrance, something that struck Harry as decidedly odd. Currently, the headmaster had what appeared to be a large, ancient looking notebook open beside him as he poured over a massive, truly ancient looking tome that for some reason made Harry extremely uncomfortable. He couldn't quite explain it, but for some reason, the book from which Dumbledore was reading just seemed — ominous. After several long moments of uninterrupted silence, Dumbledore sighed, marking his page with a brightly coloured bookmark and gingerly shutting the tome, shoving it away along with the notebook beside it before he looked up at Harry.

"My apologies for keeping you waiting, Harry. I found myself most entranced in my latest project; I dare say I have not had such an intellectual challenge in many years, but I thank you for your patience and understanding."

"Uh... no problem sir, it was only a couple of minutes anyways."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Too true but alas, for all of its advantages often seen only through the wisdom of age, youth can not often count patience among them. What seems like but an infinitesimal moment in time to me often seems to appear as an eternity to one as young as yourself." Dumbledore smiled almost sheepishly. "But alas, I am rambling once more, so I must apologize for a second time in a matter of moments. How has your first week at Hogwarts been? I heard you caused quite the scene in your first lesson with Professor Lockhart?"

"Uh… it's been ok, sir." Answered Harry carefully.

Dumbledore chuckled once more. "I must find a better way of inquiring about your classes. You always seem most worried when I speak of occurrences such as these. You are in no trouble for your feat during your Defense Against The Dark Arts lesson, Harry. If you would have been, you would have found yourself notified long before now. As a matter of fact, I must applaud you on a rather ingenious, if admittedly overzelice solution to such an abstract problem."

Harry blushed. "I couldn't really think of any other good way to do it sir." He admitted. "I could have used stunners or something, but I would have had to hit one at a time."

"Quite right," admitted Dumbledore, "a softer option would have been to use water, as though it is less lethal, it still would have achieved the desired effect of causing the pixies to flee. No harm was done however, so I merely praise you for your quick and resourceful thinking."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers before he spoke again. "Now, how often have you managed to work on your Occlumency since your arrival at the castle?"

"Uh, a bit," Harry answered honestly, "I haven't noticed too much of a change, but I tried Supplementary Occlumency. I could cast faster, but my spells were all pretty weak."

"That is not surprising." Dumbledore admitted. "Until you can multi-task at a sufficient level, the visualization or proper and clear intent will likely elude you. Fear not however, as I suspect that day is drawing very near indeed, and the fact that you could cast anything at all is both impressive and encouraging."

He smiled at Harry. "As I said during our last meeting, I will be leaving the finer points of Occlumency to you. They are not difficult to hone in most cases, simply monotonous and time consuming. I will, of course, be more than happy to answer any questions on this self study, though for our lessons, I will be focusing on the more active elements of Occlumency, dealing specifically with it as a direct counter to Legilimency and other forms of psychic attacks."

"I've always kind of wondered about that, sir." Harry admitted. "What other kinds of psychic attacks can Occlumency help to stop?"

Dumbledore beamed at him. "Why Harry, such an insightful question yet such a complex answer. First of all, I think it prudent to point out the flaw in your question. Occlumency can not stop psychic attacks, simply negate them. The level of negation, as you know, is dependent on the will and prowess of both attacker and defender. This applies to other psychic fields as well, which makes this question particularly difficult to answer, as it can become quite abstract and it is a field I have admittedly not explored too thoroughly.

"To answer your question with solid facts and avoid potentially incorrect speculations, Occlumency can certainly be used to negate the effects of Veritaserum, though it takes an extremely skilled and strong willed Occlumens to truly resist the pull of the potion."

"Sorry sir, but what is Veritaserum?"

"Ah yes, how foolish of me to assume you would know of it given your age. Veritaserum, Harry, is the most powerful truth potion in the world."

Harry blinked. 'Well, that's terrifying.'

"I could count on one hand the number of individuals I think would stand a chance of fighting the potions effects. It is such a rare ability as a matter of fact, that Veritaserum is still a common practice in a court of law."

"Wow, that's mildly terrifying."

"Indeed."

"Are there any other psychic attacks or intrusions Occlumency can negate?"

Dumbledore's lips twitched at the adjustment of Harry's wording. "A powerful Occlumens can, in rare cases, recover from a memory charm and unravel the truth in the days following the ordeal, but these cases are more rare than even the ability to resist Veretasirum, and I can think of only three individuals I have ever met with the potential of using Occlumency in this way." Harry shook his head as he thought of having his memory wiped. "Have I disturbed you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not you," Harry answered, "I just find the idea of the memory charm repulsive."

"Ah, on that front we are in agreement. There is terrible power in being able to take a person's memory."

"Surely it's worse than most of the dark arts? I mean, I get it not being on the same level as the unforgivables, but why is it not considered dark?"

"You are full of questions today, Harry, though luckily for you, I am usually full of answers, even if in this case, I admit to it being based mainly on opinions and being a bit of a hot take as I believe you youths would call it." He scratched his beard thoughtfully as Harry smiled in spite of himself at the old man's antics.

"Obliviate, or the memory charm, is a great yet terrible piece of magic. In many ways, it is far worse than the Unforgivable Curses," when he saw Harry's sceptical face he quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, you do not agree?"

"I don't know," said Harry honestly, "I mean, the Imperius curse is literally used to control somebody, to bend them to your will. You can take away their mind, have them do whatever you want."

"Ah yes, the Imperius Curse." Said Dumbledore. "I do wish you were not so intimately familiar with it at your age but I suppose as you are, we shall debate. What you say is true, but let me ask you this, Harry. Keeping in mind all of the effects and potential repercussions you just mentioned, could they not all potentially be results of the memory charm as well?" When Harry looked confused, Dumbledore pressed on. "What if, for instance, I were Voldemort and I were to wipe somebody of any positive memories associated with muggleborns and leave them only their negative memories? Would they not be greatly influenced to fall victim to my propaganda and obey me freely and of their own will? Potentially even being a more valuable asset to me by doing so?"

Harry didn't really have a counter argument for that.

"In addition," continued Dumbledore, "the Imperius Curse, though notoriously difficult to shake off, is actually far easier to resist than it would be to self unravel a memory wipe. And the memory charm, though very difficult and complex, is a spell that can be mastered far more easily than the Imperius curse."

"Ok," conceded Harry, deciding to play his Trump card early, "but what about-what about the killing curse? Surely there's nothing worse than that?"

Dumbledore's expression darkened. "Oh, there are things far, far worse than the killing curse, dear boy. Please do not take this the wrong way given your past experiences with that curse, but in many ways, Avada Kedavra is comparable to mercy."

Harry felt a motikum of rage bubble inside of him. How could Dumbledore downplay the curse that took away his parents? But Dumbledore had raised his hand to placate Harry, so with great restraint, Harry bit down on his tongue.

"I am not justifying the killing curse, nor am I discrediting its evil. However, there are far worse ways to die than quickly and without pain or suffering. And as a matter of fact, though it may be difficult if not impossible for you to understand such a thing in your youthful exuberance, there are far worse things than dying."

"Maybe for the people dead," said Harry tightly, feeling his throat constrict.

"Harry, I am discrediting the sorrow of those who have lossed loved ones at the hands of the killing curse. In saying that, ask yourself this. Would you rather be an orphan knowing that your parents lives were ended in the blink of an eye with two simple words? Or would you rather your parents died as their organs were expelled through their mouths? Or perhaps burned from the inside out?" Harry's face had taken on a green tinge and Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, now you understand just a pinch of what the blackest of magic is capable of. But back to the memory charm. You could die from the killing curse, or you could live as a shell. A being with no memory, and therefore no goals, no direction, and no will to live." Harry, if possible, paled even further and Dumbledore nodded.

'Dare I ask?'

"Sir, what about the Cruciatus Curse? I can't think of much worse than what happened to Neville's parents."

The ever present light that seemed to dance behind Dumbledore's eyes dimmed considerably as his voice came out harsher and with a fair bit of bitterness. "It is the worst of the three." He conceded. "As for a comparison, it would very much depend on the outlook of the person drawing the juxtaposition. The memory charm can be evil in so many more ways, but the evil that can be rott through the use of the Cruciatus Curse is near incomparable."

"So, I'm gonna go back to my original question about the memory charm since you've proven your point. Why isn't it considered dark? Or at least heavily frowned upon?"

"Practicality for the most part." Dumbledore answered. "Without such a spell, the ministry would be hard pressed to maintain The Statute of Secrecy. As a matter of fact, there was a time, briefly before the statute came into effect where the possibility of outright banning the spell on a similar level to the unforgivables was discussed. The other issue in terms of perception is that the memory charm can be shielded against, the unforgivables cannot."

"Why is that, sir?" Harry asked, having never really looked into the matter.

"Intent my dear boy, magic is all about intent and with the exception of extreme cases such as yours, the intent to kill, control or torture is fundamentally more powerful than the intent to protect, hence why no shield can stand against the unforgivable curses.

"But enough of an old man's philosophical chit chat, we are here to teach you Occlumency and as I was saying, I will be teaching you to defend your mind directly against Legilimency." Harry set his jaw with determination as he looked eagerly, if a bit nervously towards Dumbledore. "You will remember last year when I taught you to detect presences in your mind?" Harry nodded. "Well, we will be expanding upon that idea tonight. You remember as well, I take it, how you detect a presence in your mind?"

"There's usually a sort of distortion at the corners of the image you use to clear your mind."

"Correct. Now, there are many ways to shield your mind. Unfortunately, there are, to a certain extent, ways around all of them, which is why it is important to master as many methods as possible. The more fluid and well rounded your Defense, the less likely your mind will ever be breached. Tonight, we will begin with the most basic method of doing so. It is also the easiest to overcome, but alas, the fundamentals must be learned before the complexities can be mastered."

"How do I do it, sir?"

"When you notice the distortion, you must focus on it while simultaneously keeping the conjured image in mind. Imagine as if your vision is tunneling towards the distortion and imagine, all while keeping your image in mind, the distortion being physically shoved from your mind while willing the very thing to happen."

"Sort of like how I would for Transfiguration?"

"Almost exactly the same, though with more variables in play. As I said, magic is all about intent."

"You said this is the easiest method to get around?"

"All in good time, Harry. Let us hone this skill before we suitably deconstruct it." His eyes were twinkling again. Dumbledore really did miss teaching, especially when the pupil was as bright and eager to learn as the boy that sat in front of him.

"Shall we begin?" Dumbledore inquired, to which Harry nodded. "Alright, prepare yourself; this endeavour may prove to be a fairly exhausting affair."

Exhausting it was.

By the end of the session, Harry had managed to disrupt Dumbledore's intentionally weak probe on a number of occasions but as of yet, he had not truly managed to repel it completely. In spite of this, the headmaster seemed in high spirits, while Harry himself felt positively exhausted as he wished the man a good night and slunk towards the door.

* * *

**September 5th 1992.**

**Gryffindor Tower.**

**4:56 AM.**

Harry snapped awake far faster than he was accustomed too and couldn't quite figure out why. That was until a moment later when he felt someone shake his shoulder and his instincts kicked in. He sprang up, nearly driving his head straight into the offender's nose before he snatched his wand from under his pillow and took aim quickly.

"Wow!" Said the familiar voice of Oliver Wood, causing Harry to curse under his breath as he lowered his wand.

"Don't do that!" He hissed to Wood, which the boy did not acknowledge, choosing instead to gaze at Harry with obvious bemusement.

"Point taken." He muttered dumbly, shaking his head in apparent shock. "We're meeting down at the pitch in half an hour." He said, causing Harry's eyes to go wide.

"Oliver," protested Harry, casting a quick Tempus spell before continuing, "it's not even 5:00 AM for Merlin's sake!"

Instead of looking apologetic or even a little bit taken aback, Wood's face split into a maniacal grin that Harry instantly realized was the result of him earning the exact opposite result he had hoped for. "Exactly!" Said Wood. "That's why we're going to trounce the lot of them this year. I'm not letting us lose the Quidditch Cup again!"

Harry winced. The reason they had lost the cup last year to begin with was because he had spent the team's final game against Ravenclaw in the hospital wing after his battle with Quirrell. This had resulted in not only a loss for the lions, but their worst in a century. At the time, Harry had seriously doubted whether or not Oliver's pride would ever recover.

'Great, now I have to find another time today to do Moody's torture regiment.'

Harry had been diligent in completing the exercises given to him by the crazed ex auror. He was eager for the day that he would begin to see the promised improvements, though if he were being honest, he was more looking forward to the day when he no longer felt as if he had been the victim of a particularly gruesome car crash since that was how he had felt every day since starting the regiment and as of yet, he had noticed not even the slightest improvement on that front.

"You're mental!" Harry muttered with a dazed shake of his head as he looked at Oliver Wood in an entirely new light. "Absolutely mental."

Wood shrugged. "I can tolerate being mental as long as you're on time. Oh — bring your friend too — the one who wants to go for reserve. Ron, right?"

Harry winced. "Yeah, he's not going to take kindly to being woken up at this bleeding hour though."

Oliver merely shrugged for a second time. "Not my problem," he responded, already on his way out of their dorm, likely to go wake the others, "let's see how badly he wants it!"

"Absolutely mental." Harry repeated, slowly and cautiously making his way over to Ron's bed, figuring a cautious approach would likely be best for his health. "Dolor." He incanted, pointing his wand towards his friend and firing off a mildly powered stinging hex, causing Ron to wince in his sleep. After a few more well placed hexes and a rather rushed explanation, both he and Ron were showering in a hurry.

As he showered, Harry reflected on his first week back at school. With the exception of the fiasco that had been Gilderoy Lockhart's first excuse for a Defense Against The Dark Arts lesson, Harry had experienced a fairly mundane first week by his own standards. It was true that now, he found himself on the receiving end of some rather suspicious, if not worried glances from a few of the second year Gryffindors who had seen him incinerate the pixies, as well as a few from other years who had been privy to the gossip but aside from that, all had gone quite smoothly by his own admittedly abnormal standards. Part of him thought, both due to his history, pre conditioning to expect the worst, and the rather ominous warning that Dobby had delivered him that something was bound to go wrong soon. Despite all of that, as he stepped out of the shower and saw the near decrepit appearance of his friend, he could not help but smile and allow those worries to wash away as he laughed openly at the corpse like appearance of the youngest Weasley son.

"Not a morning person, huh?" He asked rhetorically. Ron's answer was immediately evident by the fact that the boy could not even summon the energy to glare at Harry.

"W-what was your first clue?" He asked through a tremendous yawn that caused Harry to snicker some more.

"Probably the fact that you're usually immobile until about ten any day you can be."

Ron scowled. "I'm up now, aren't I?" He asked irritably, to which Harry just rolled his eyes in response.

Together they descended the stairs into the Gryffindor common room, with each of them carrying one of Harry's state of the art racing brooms. He had told Ron that he could use his old Nimbus 2000 for training while he rode the 2001. The fact had overjoyed the youngest Weasley brother, who had never been given such an expensive toy in his life, even if his playtime was limited. When they entered the common room, it came as a great shock to both of them that, miraculously, they were not alone.

"Hey Harry!" Said an excited voice as the mousy haired first year who had asked him for the photo a few days previous sprung up out of his chair and bounded to the side of the two second year boys. "I heard a few of the Quidditch players leaving a minute or so ago and figured you'd be going too. You are on the Quidditch team, aren't you Harry? I've heard that you're the youngest seeker in a century, is that true too? Come to think of it, what's a seeker anyways? I don't really understand the-"

"Oi!" Exclaimed Ron with his hands over his temples. "Can you please shut up!" He hissed, causing Colin to fall quiet at once.

"S-s-sorry." He said meekly, clearly taken aback by Ron's outburst. As impolite as it was, Harry was rather grateful for it. To do such a thing was not in his nature and had it not been for Ron's intervention, he feared as though he would have had a very unwanted sidekick for the remainder of the walk down to the stadium.

"For future reference," said Ron a bit short temperedly, "don't throw a million questions at somebody all at once. It's annoying and rude, and at 5:00 in the bloody morning, it might get you cursed next time."

Colin flushed and scrambled back the way he came as the two of them clambered out of the dormitory. "Have I mentioned that I'm really grateful you're not a morning person?" Harry asked innocently, causing Ron to snort as he smiled in spite of himself.

"Who'd have guessed it had its perks?" Ron said with mock surprise, looking oddly smug as the two of them made their way down towards the pitch.

It took a great deal of convincing on Harry's part for Ron not to go on a wild goose chase trying to find the kitchens, a place neither of them had an inkling as to the location of, but eventually, the two of them stepped into the dressing room with Harry looking far more alert than the rest of the team as this was quite normal for him while Ron, much like his two older brothers, looked very much like he would keel over from exhaustion at any moment.

'Must be genetic.'

To Ron's credit, unlike Fred, he did manage to stay awake through the entirety of Wood's impossibly long lecture, though that may have been because unlike his older brother, who's head was resting peacefully on Alicia's shoulder, Ron did not have such a comfortable headrest.

By the time they had survived the lecture and strategical marathon they had been put through, the sun had risen and it was well past Seven O'clock. As the team stepped out onto the pitch and took flight, Harry noticed that Creevy had not been quite as deterred as they had first thought. There he was, sitting in the center most seat in the top row, snapping pictures madly as the eight players flew in a warm-up lap around the pitch.

"Oi!" Called Oliver once the team had all completed a number of laps at top speed. "Who's that in the stands? It could be a Slytherin spy."

"He's a Gryffindor." Said Harry exasperatedly.

"A bloody annoying one." Put in Ron, to which Angelina and Alicia nodded along with in agreement.

"Besides," said George darkly, "the Slytherins don't need a spy here."

Oliver looked immediately indignant. "Why would you say that?" He asked, to which George simply pointed downwards to the pitch below.

"Because they're already here."

"What?!" Exploded Wood as they all looked down on the seven figures in green and silver robes trudging onto the pitch. "To hell with that! We've got the pitch booked! The nerve of Flint!" And he shot toward the ground, the team hot on his heels. On his way down, Harry spotted Dean and Neville making their way towards the pitch. Neville had been making an effort to be up earlier as of late and he had clearly dragged Dean along with him, who did admittedly still look better than Ron, though only just.

"Flint!" Wood boomed immediately upon touching down as he charged towards the Slytherins. "What the hell are you doing here?! We've got the pitch booked all morning!"

Flint just grinned lazily back at the eight of them. "Calm your jets, Oli, plenty enough room for all of us, and besides," he said, pulling a piece of parchment from the pocket of his team robes, "I've got a signed note from Professor Snape granting us special permission to use the pitch."

Wood snatched the note furiously from out of Flint's hand and read it aloud, his voice taking on tones of fury and incredulity.

"I, Professor Severus Snape, grant the Slytherin Quidditch team special permission to use the pitch on account of a need to train their new seeker." Wood looked up. "New seeker? Thought Higgs was still on for another year?"

"At school and on the team are too very different things." Came a horribly familliar drawl from behind the hulking figures in the front. As several of the Slytherin players parted, the smallest among them stepped forward, his blonde hair gleaming in the morning sunlight as his grey eyes, which fixed intently upon Harry's green ones, positively shown with victory.

"You!" Exclaimed Ron, glaring hatefully at Malfoy. It was a look that the Slytherin returned with equal venom.

"Surprised to see me, Weasley?" Asked Malfoy smugly.

"Yeah, now that you mention it." Quipped Ron. "Thought you had to be a bumbling troll to make the Slytherin team." He glanced mockingly at the hulking figures of Flint, Derrick and Bowl before shrugging nonchalantly. "I guess they make exceptions for talented players though," he said, before the ghost of a smile crossed his face, "or, apparently rich stuck up snobs who think they're the next Merlin.." He looked between Harry and Malfoy. "Last time I saw you in the air, Harry damn near knocked you off your broom. Are you so eager to get embarrassed again?"

Malfoy's eyes flashed. "The only person here who should be embarrassed, Weasley, is you! Only one of us got on the team through charity!" Malfoy turned his milevilant smile onto Harry. "How much did you have to beg for him to get on, Potter? I'd bet it took a few hours at least."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," said Flint with mock indignance, "this is no place to bicker! The lions are here to train some undoubtedly brilliant schemes no one has ever come up with before." He mock bowed to Wood. "And we're here to put our new seeker and brooms to the test-"

"New brooms?" Wood asked sharply, his eyes roaming over the seven players in front of him before widening comically seconds later.

"Like them, Oli?" Asked Flint, prompting all seven Slytherin players to hold up identical, rather familiar looking silver broomsticks with the golden words _Nimbus 2001 _imprinted upon the handle.

'Well shit. And here I thought I'd have an advantage this year.'

The Gryffindor chasers had gone completely silent, Ron's face had flushed a furious shade of red and the twins, for once, seemed speechless.

"These beauties were a generous donation from Draco's father." Flint told them proudly, resting a large hand on Malfoy's shoulder. "Only just came out; state of the art at that. I've been told they outstrip the old 2000 model by a sizable margin. And as for those Clean Sweeps," he shot a disgusted look towards Fred and George, "well… I reckon if you auctioned those off to the highest bidder, you might be able to afford my broomhandle." The Slytherins all around them laughed as the twins gritted their teeth, a glint of promised vengeance gleaming behind their eyes.

Harry noticed at that moment that his two other friends, Dean and Neville, had reached the pitch now, and they stood on either side of Ron and Harry, looking at the new scene in front of them.

"Oh," said Malfoy with a smirk as he spotted the pair of them, "perhaps if Thomas's filthy parents put in their life savings, maybe they could even afford the label." There was more laughter but Harry almost winced for Draco's sake. Dean was a rather quick witted boy, and he was not who Harry would have targeted had he been in Draco's shoes.

Dean just scowled. "A bit rich you talking about money, isn't it Malfoy?" Asked Dean, to which the Slytherin Quidditch team took as their queue to fall silent.

Malfoy sneered. "I can talk of money all I want, Thomas. I could buy and sell your family home ten times over with my monthly allowance." This caused the Slytherins gathered round to laugh once more.

"I never said you didn't have money," said Dean, completely unbothered by Draco's latest remark, "the opposite actually. I just thought it was a bit rich that you'd talk about your money and draw attention to the fact that it's the only real reason you're on the team at all. I mean — last I checked, none of the Gryffindor players had to buy their way onto a Quidditch team."

The Slytherins fell completely silent now and it was clear by his expression that now, for the first time during their conversation, Draco was legitimately flustered, and the next words out of his mouth were a clear display of that.

"Shut your mouth, you good for nothing Mudblood!"

Pandemonium broke out all at once.

Harry's wand was in his hand in an instant and though it was the first, it was not the last. "Diffindo!" He snarled, slashing his wand towards Malfoy. The boy tried to duck out of the way but was too slow, having been caught off guard by Harry's immediate reaction. A gash sliced itself open on Malfoy's cheek and he staggered backwards, only to be tackled to the ground by Flint as other hexes from the rest of the gathered Gryffindors sailed over his head. The Slytherins drew their wands to retaliate and as a matter of fact, Harry had to hastily cast a Protego in order to shield himself from the oncoming curses. Before the impending duel could get too far out of hand, a voice that was jovial to the point of being out of place sounded across the grounds.

"Now, what on earth is going on here?"

They all froze and despite himself, Harry couldn't help but think. 'Why did it have to be him?'

A moment later, Gilderoy Lockhart stepped forward, interposing himself between the two sides, his flowing turquoise robes blowing in the early morning breeze as he looked at the lot of them.

"Duelling on the school grounds?" He asked, sounding affronted. "Dear me, dear me indeed. What an act!"

"It was Malfoy, sir, he called Dean a m-m-Mudblood!" snapped Ron at once, causing the Slytherins to immediately bite back with their own accusations, aimed mainly at Harry for attacking Draco.

"Enough!" Snapped Lockhart, his voice becoming uncharacteristically strict. The sudden shift was such a surprise to the lot of them that they actually listened. "Mr. Potter, your wand, if you will?"

"Why?" Harry asked, immediately suspicious.

"I would like to check the magic it has cast as of late."

"Don't bother," snarled Harry, clutching it protectively, "I cursed the git and I'd do it again; he deserved it!"

"Harry, Harry, Harry," patronized Lockhart, sounding like a rather disappointed father. "It is not for us mere mortals to decide what people do and do not deserve. I'm afraid I'll have to give you detention." He sounded truly regretful about the whole thing. "Tomorrow night in my office — 7:00." He turned to Draco. "You as well, Mr. Malfoy, but you can do your detention with Mr. Filch at the same time." Malfoy scowled, still wiping blood from his still open cheek, but he did not dare argue. "Well, I don't think either of you will be using the pitch now. Off with the lot of you. Go!"

They did not need to be told twice and now, all of a sudden, Harry was wondering if the blood he had drawn from the pureblood had really been worth it.

'I mean — I can tolerate a lot and all — but detention with that git?'

* * *

**September 5th 1992.**

**The Library.**

**7;53 PM.**

Ginny slammed her matchstick down onto the desk in frustration, drawing a patronizing glare from the librarian but she did not care. She had thought she was doing so well when she had dealt with all of the pixies in DADA, despite not really remembering where she had learnt that spell from. Later that day, however, she had been granted a rather rude awakening in the form of her first Transfiguration lesson with her head of house and now, sat in the library twenty-four hours later, Ginny still couldn't get the blasted spell to work.

Sighing, she set her wand down on the desk and did the first thing that came to her mind in terms of relaxing or decompressing; she took her diary out of her bag, flipped it open and began to write.

_Hello Tom,_

_It's been a really long day! Can you tell me another story from your school days?_

There was the typical few moments of delay before Ginny's words sank into the parchment and were replaced by those of a neater, smaller handwriting.

_Good evening Ginny,_

_The correct question to ask would not be can I, as we both know full well that I can, but rather, will I. _

Ginny sighed. She had not in her wildest dreams expected Tom to be such a grammar critic, but the boy was as set on perfection in diary form as he seemed to have been in human form.

_Fine! Will you tell me a story about your Hogwarts days?_

_Of course, but first, why don't you tell me why it has felt like such a long day?_

Ginny sighed, knowing that to argue was an exercise in futility.

_Because I've been trying to transform a matchstick into a needle for the last three hours and I just can't do it!_

Tom's response was slower this time. It took Ginny's slightly blotted words several minutes to sink in to the parchment, words blotted by the extra force she had unintentionally put into her quill out of sheer frustration

_Well then, I will make you a deal. I will tell you a long story, but only once you've managed the transfiguration._

Ginny swore under her breath in a way that would have infuriated her mother.

_But I can't do it! That's the whole point!_

_Can't? Of course you can do it! It is a basic and rudimentary transformation that is not at all difficult. The only reason it poses any challenge at all is because you have not yet built the magical memory to aid in your transformations and because you lack practice with visualization. Here, let me help you. What are you picturing when trying the transfiguration?_

_The completed matchstick like Professor McGonagall said to do!_

_Allow me to offer a more unorthodox approach. Instead of picturing the completed needle, imagine every change happening. Play all of the changes happening in your mind in slow motion as you speak the incantation clearly and perfectly trace the wand movement. As a matter of fact, draw the movement on the page so I can tell if it is correct or not._

She did.

_Your jab resembles a slash, make it tighter — straighter._

She drew it out again.

_Better. Now, transfigure the matchstick using the method I told you._

Ginny sighed exasperatedly, wanting only to complete her task and get the whole day over with. If only Tom could ACTUALLY help her, ACTUALLY be there to help her. As she said it, she felt… something — odd. It was hard to explain, but it was as if her mind was receiving a massage. Closing her eyes and figuring she would get the attempt over with so she could hear her story, Ginny closed her eyes and found, to her astonishment, that the vivid image Tom had so eloquently described practically played itself. She drew out the motion in what she hoped was a precise manner and jabbed her wand perfectly towards the matchstick. "Composatus Verto." When she opened her eyes, ready to throw the matchstick into her bag and call it a night, her eyes widened as her heart skipped a beat.

There was no matchstick at all.

Instead, sitting in front of her on the desk was the most picture perfect needle Ginny could have ever imagined.

Ginny's face broke into a wide grin as an odd warmth spread throughout her body. She was so elated, so drunk on her own glory that when later asked, she could never quite recall how she even spent the rest of that night, nor which story Tom had told her.

* * *

**September 6th 1992.**

**Gilderoy Lockhart's Office.**

**11:34 PM.**

Harry had decided after four long hours of signing Lockhart's fanmail that in his opinion, the blood he had drawn from Malfoy, though completely warranted and incredibly satisfying in his eyes, was absolutely not worth the four plus hours he had so far endured in the presence of Lockhart. The man seemed to take it upon himself to try and impart words of wisdom in regards to fame and how to handle it every so often. Harry really did not have a whole lot of patience by the time 11:30 had come around and felt downright delirious when he heard it.

"Rip… tear… kill!"

Harry's head snapped up at once as he gaped at Lockhart before realizing that the sound, like nails scraping across a chalkboard, yet still so clear in his mind had not come from his professor. The man still appeared to be dutifully marking essays as Harry worked.

"P-p-professor," he said, his voice shaking despite himself. Lockhart hummed to show he was listening. "D-did you — did you just hear that?"

Lockhart's quill paused. "Here that? My dear boy, I must admit that I'm baffled as to what you are talking about."

Harry shook his head slowly as if to rid himself of the cobwebs that had evidently taken up lodging inside his head. Clearly the monotony of his task was getting to him. Perhaps he really was becoming delirious. Harry thought this, remained in blissful ignorance for another three or so minutes until the same horrible voice spoke again, though it sounded quieter this time, as if it were further away.

"Let me rip you… let me tear you… let me kill you!"

"Professor, there it is again!" Harry said, causing Lockhart to actually set down his quill and look up, bemused.

"There is what, Harry?"

"The voice? Did you n-not hear it? Not hear what it just said?"

Lockhart's brow furrowed in evident concern. "Harry, my boy, I am afraid there was no such-" but then he paused as his eyes widened upon seeing the clock. "Dear me!" He exclaimed. "No wonder you're hearing voices, you poor boy, we have been at this for nearly five hours! Can you believe it? Time really does fly when you're having fun, doesn't it? Well, I think it best you get to bed, Harry. You've clearly had a very long and difficult night. Do try and stay out of trouble. I'm afraid I will not be able to swoop in and turn all of your detentions into such a treat, good night."

Normally, as Harry numbly left the room and quickly hid under his cloak for the journey back to Gryffindor tower, he would have internally remarked at the boldness and idiocy of Lockhart's statement. Tonight though, he was far too focused on voices that only he could hear, and the implications of a being that seemed to want to do nothing but rip, tear, and kill.

* * *

**September 7th 1992.**

**The Potions Classroom.**

**9:10 AM.**

Harry's night of sleep had been, even by his own low standards, anything but restful. He had intensely debated whether or not he should tell Neville about the voice he had heard in the corridor but he had dismissed the idea. Last year, Neville had been hesitant to believe him over the whole Quirrell versus Snape debate despite Harry having actual evidence, shaky as it may have been. If Harry told Neville that he was hearing voices that no one else could seem to hear, he thought there was a good chance that Neville would refer him to St. Mungos before he actually took him seriously. It wasn't until these thoughts had crossed his mind that he realized that he had not yet told Neville of Dobby. He would have to do that soon, but he would let the year get rolling before he decided to drop a bomb like that on Neville.

Whether or not he would tell Dumbledore was something that he was still debating with himself. On one hand, he had promised the old man that he would share any information on potential threats within the castle but on the other, he could not see any way that this information could be valuable.

'Hey professor, I heard a voice no one else could hear and it wanted to rip, tear and kill.'

'My my, Harry, what a wonderful revelation! And what exactly would you like me to do with this invaluable bit of information?'

Harry nearly snorted aloud at the image that played through his head. The more he thought about it, the more he thought that perhaps Lockhart had been right. Perhaps he really had been delirious.

'I mean, how would I just hear something that nobody else could hear? I mean, even for me, that's an entirely new level of weird.'

Harry was snapped out of his musings a second later when the classroom door slammed open and in stormed their Potions Master, Professor Snape. He looked upon the full classroom with apparent disinterest. That was until he met a pair of emerald green eyes, at which point his face twisted into a scowl for the briefest of moments before he looked away.

Now that Harry knew more about Snape's backstory with his mother, he could not help but think of the man a bit differently. Mind you, his outlook had not changed, but he wondered, especially knowing how well he had once gotten on with his mother, how Snape justified hating him with such a vehemence.

"Well, well, well, I see that none of you have managed to sufficiently dim your minds to the point of being unable to find the classroom over the summer. A good thing too, as I fear some of you have more brains cells at your disposal than others. It would be most unfortunate for those of you who do not have the sufficient brain cells to spare." His eyes rested maliciously upon Neville, who sat beside Harry. Neville did not cower under Snape's gaze like he used to, though he did fidget a bit, and looked supremely uncomfortable. "Today, for example, I think we shall see just who those individuals are, as I thought a little check in as to your competence was in order." Snape waved his wand and suddenly, instructions were written upon the board. "A simple sleeping solution, to be handed in for grading at the end of the class." His eyes rested once again upon Neville, though they flicked to Harry sitting beside him as his lip twitched upwards as if he were holding back a smirk. "This will be an individual project." Neville tensed beside Harry and he did his best to shoot his best friend a reassuring look but if truth be told, Neville never had been great with a cauldron.

"Begin!"

While he worked, doing his best to whisper instructions to Neville whenever he thought he could likely get away with it, Harry wondered how he had ever managed to brew based on Snape's instructions alone. Mind you, this was not the most fair comparison, as Daphne had actually used this exact potion as an example, so he was really just repeating her steps. Even in saying so, she still somehow managed to finish more than ten minutes ahead of him, though to his great pride and Snape's obvious displeasure, Harry was the second to hand in a vial of perfect potion, beating the third, Hermione Granger, by nearly as much as Daphne had beaten him. This fact earned him a rather vicious looking sneer from Snape and a very subtle, very discrete smile from Daphne.

Harry found that as he left the class, he was in rather high spirits. His friends seemed to mostly be in the same boat.

"Not bad for Snape." Commented Ron as they left the class. "Only ten points lost from Seamus the entire lesson."

"Yeah," noted Dean with a crooked smile, "that must be some sort of record." He turned to Neville. "I was working with Ron and Merlin over here clearly managed just fine, but how'd you make out, Neville?"

"Not bad I don't think," said Neville, "it didn't seem like the right shade, but it didn't seem much worse than most of the others." He smiled sheepishly at Harry. "I had help though."

"Wish I had." Muttered Ron.

"Yours wasn't that bad." Commented Dean.

"Yeah, but not that bad for a Gryffindor means a P from Snape." Harry rolled his eyes, not at the statement but at the truth behind it. He could not believe what Snape got away with. As they made to round the corner, Harry felt someone bump into him from behind, sending him stumbling forwards, though he managed to keep his balance. As he stumbled, reaching out for the wall, he felt something gracefully slide into his palm. His eyes widened for a split second and as a result of this, he was not overly surprised to see Daphne and her friend, Tracey Davis.

"Watch where you're going, Potter." She said, doing a good job of making it sound believable before she stormed off with her chin held high, Tracey not far behind her.

"Oi!" Ron called after them, but they were gone. "That cow!" He protested. "She just walked into you and told YOU to watch where you're going!"

"Thanks for the breakdown, mate, I noticed." Harry said with a roll of his eyes.

It was not until later that day that Harry got to read the note from Daphne, but when he did so, he could not help but feel a flutter of anticipation in his chest.

_Potter,_

_I'm sure you've been dying to see me for ages by this point, and your wait will end on Saturday. Meet me at our usual abandoned classroom in the dungeons and don't be late._

_See you soon,_

_Daphne _

* * *

**Authors Endnote:**

**Well, I know a lot of you have wanted more Daphne, so here you go. **

**I hope the Dumbledore scene didn't come off as too much of an info dump. I reworked it a few times to try and break it up and justify the large amounts of info, but I hope it turned out to be enjoyable to read.**

**Please read and review.**

**PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, April 19th at approximately 3:00 PM.**


	22. LOS Ch 7: The Prank War of The Century

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Author's Note:**

**And here's the part of the year where I, who am usually very good at remembering canon went, "Huh, why can't I remember what happened between now and Halloween?" So, I looked on the Harry Potter Lexicon and then went "Seriously? Nothing of interest other than people getting colds happened between now and Halloween? Well, that would certainly explain it but man is that ever sloppy pacing." So, in short, here's where I admittedly had to fill some time. I hope you enjoy the chapter nonetheless. **

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.

**Parseltongue. **

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 7: The Prank War of The Century.**

* * *

**September 7th 1992.**

**The Great Hall.**

**6:21 PM.**

The Potions class had really been the only true event of note for Harry and his friends that day, with the rest of their classes passing in uniform normality. That was something that Harry found himself rather appreciative of after the adventure that had been his first year at Hogwarts. At present, he, Ron, Dean and Neville were making their way into The Great Hall for dinner, having just used their free period to finish the essay that Snape had assigned them. Well, Harry was finished, and Dean needed only to proofread his own, but Neville nor Ron had ever found Potions to be a subject they were at all strong in, so the both of them still had a fair bit to write.

"One of these days," put in Ron a bit grumpily as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table, "I'm going to drown that greasy git in a cauldron."

"Make sure it's full of water," quipped Dean, "might actually wash out his hair before he bites the bullet."

Ron snickered before looking at Dean questioningly. "Bite the what?"

"Bullet," supplied Harry with a small grin, "it's a muggle thing. Your father would be ashamed of you."

Ron just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, probably, but oh well, I can live with that possibility."

"Scandalous." Said Neville with a smile of his own, pulling his full plate of food towards him as the rest did the same. "Do you guys have practice tonight?" He asked Harry and Ron. Ron merely shook his head, unable to answer verbally due to the borderline impossible amount of food currently in his mouth.

"Practices are on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays." Supplied Harry. "Wood wanted to do Sundays too, but the team shot that idea down pretty quickly." He too took a bite of his food, as Neville, swallowing his own, asked yet another question.

"What are you planning to do after dinner then, practice?"

"Sort of," he answered, planning to work on his ability to multitask with Occlumency and perhaps to put some more time into non verbal casting, a practice that had so far gone absolutely nowhere.

"Sort of?" Neville asked, and Harry realized he had walked into a trap. "How can you sort of practice?"

Harry scrambled for an acceptable answer but as it turned out, he did not need one.

"Oi!" Cried out Ron, reaching for the nearest napkin and pressing it hard to his face. To Harry's and the rest's horror, the napkin was soaked through with what was unmistakably blood a second later. "The hell did a nosebleed come from?"

"That does not look like a normal nose bleed." Said Harry, as the amount of blood that was pouring from Ron's nostrils was akin to something that may have been shown off in an over the top, low budget muggle horror movie.

"Yeah," agreed Dean, swallowing his mouthful of food as he looked at his friend, "maybe you should get that checked out, mate. It doesn't look-" but he was cut off as all of a sudden, blood began to spray from his nose as well.

"What the hell?!" Hissed Harry, pulling out his wand and directing it at Ron, who seemed to be in more dire need as he was losing colour in his skin. "Episkey." To Harry's surprise, the healing spell, which was meant exactly for these types of injuries did absolutely nothing. "What the? Episkey!" He tried again, this time aiming his wand towards Dean and pouring all of the magic he could into the spell.

Nothing happened.

Moments later, he felt a trickle of blood begin to flow from his own nose and saw, to his right, that Neville too was suffering from the condition, though worse than Harry.

'The food.' He realized. Ron and Dean had ate the most of it, and they seemed to have had it the worst while he, having not yet ate much at all, was experiencing only a trickle.

He glanced down the table, expecting to see a whole host of nosebleeders but to his surprise, he did not see any aside from the four of them.

'What the hell is going on?'

Then, his sharp eyes, which were well honed at looking for inconsistencies spotted two people a bit down the table who looked all too smug as they glanced down the table towards them. Fred and George's faces shifted immediately however, as soon as their eyes fell upon Ron and Dean, which was a sight that caused their eyes to widen in horror.

"_Where were you lot?!" Exclaimed a pair of voices in unison as the twins took seats opposite Harry and Neville. _

"_Here." Said Ron simply, wearing a smirk that was oddly reminiscent of the two twins sitting with them. "Bit stupid of you to ask, wasn't it?"_

_Their eyes narrowed. "Careful Ronikins." Warned Fred. _

"_Yeah," said George, "you don't want to start something you can't finish."_

_Ron snorted. "Don't get too full of yourselves just because you double teamed me at Christmas."_

"_It doesn't matter how many ickle friends you have, Ronikins." Warned George. _

"_You'll never out prank us!" They proclaimed proudly. _

_Ron just shook his head. "If you say so." _

_The pair of older boys grinned mischievous grins. "Oh," they both said, "we do!" And they got up and left, sliding further down the table to sit with their friend, Lee Jordan, who had just taken his own seat at their table._

"_What did you just drag me into?" Harry asked exasperatedly, causing Ron to smile abashedly back at him._

"_The prank war of the century probably. And… uh — sorry about that."_

'Bastards!' Thought Harry, reverting to one of Uncle Vernon's favourite words when cursing out any and all whom he found himself displeased with. 'What the hell do they classify as a prank?'

Harry grabbed Neville and stood, gesturing for Ron and Dean to follow. They made quite the sight as they walked out of the hall, four second year Gryffindors with their noses dripping and their robes glistening. Harry ignored the stares though, intent on only two things; finding Madam Pomfrey as soon as possible, and giving the twins a piece of his mind at the very least.

* * *

**September 8th 1992.**

**The Potions Classroom.**

**10:16 AM.**

Snape sneered down into Ginny's cauldron with a contemptuous expression. "Well, well, well," he uttered in barely more than a whisper, though his voice had no trouble permeating the silence of the classroom. "It seems you have clearly inherited the utter ineptitude that many of your brothers suffer from in the field of Potions. Ten points from Gryffindor for an atrocious effort. Evanesco." He swished his wand through the air, and Ginny gasped as her potion vanished, causing unshed tears to well up in her eyes as she stormed from the classroom, making for the first bathroom she could find before locking herself in a stall.

After crying for what felt like hours, Ginny slowly composed herself and opened her trusty diary.

_Dear Tom,_

_I need your help with something again._

**September 8th 1992.**

**The Gryffindor Changing Rooms.**

**6:07 PM.**

"Explain!" Demanded Harry as he and Ron stood opposite the twins after assuring that the four of them ended up in the locker room alone. He had liked Ron's brothers, so the fact that he was ready to summon his wand from its holster at any second was painful to him, but it was very much the truth.

To their credit, the twins did actually look rather ashamed, and Harry had a strong feeling that it was legitimate. "We're sorry Harry, Ron." Said George weakly.

"Yeah," put in Fred, "we joked about pranks back at the feast so we figured we'd get you guys to prove our point."

"Unfortunately," continued George, "that obviously didn't go to plan."

"It didn't?" Ron asked darkly.

"No!" The twins protested.

"We didn't want you lot to gush blood like you'd had your faces cut open!"

"We just wanted little nose bleeds, you know? Just enough to be annoying and not go away, not like… you know — what actually happened?"

"How, pray tell, did it manage to go wrong?" Asked Harry, still not remotely softened.

The twins suddenly looked rather sheepish. "We… uh… we've been experimenting with some stuff like that." George answered reluctantly.

"Key word being experimenting." Pointed out Fred. "We put this powder in your food, see? Well, we actually got the elves to do it, but that's beside the point. It was supposed to make your noses bleed a bit, but… uh, like we said, it was an experiment."

"So you used your brother and his friends as test subjects?" Ron accused, his face flushing red in fury. The twins nodded, keeping their eyes firmly upon their shoes. Harry was with Ron on this one. Considering the idiocy of such a thing, them, as well as Dean and Neville had actually got off on quite a bit of luck in his estimation. "I can't believe you!" Thundered Ron, positively shaking as he lifted his borrowed broomstick and began to march onto the pitch, followed closely by Harry, with the only thought in his mind being to show the twins how wrong they truly had been.

'If they're going to risk our lives for a prank, I'm definitely not giving them the satisfaction of feeling as though they've won something.'

* * *

**September 11th 1992.**

**An Abandoned Classroom.**

**7:01 PM.**

Harry had waited only a moment before a hand on his shoulder scared the wits out of him and caused him to leap about a foot into the air.

'Damn, I forgot about the stupid invisible thing.'

Daphne's laughter quickly permeated the room, and Harry could do nothing but shake his head in exasperation. "I can't wait until I figure out a way around that." He said darkly, a response which only caused more laughter before Daphne faded into existence, smiling at him as she did so.

Harry felt his mouth dry up a bit. He had grown a fair bit over the summer and in the last year in particular, but evidently not as much as Daphne. Vaguely, Harry remembered reading something in a muggle science book about how girls hit puberty early and therefore often hit their major growth spurts before boys. At the time, Harry really hadn't understood what that meant but now, he was seeing the results right in front of him. Daphne had always been taller than him, but despite his growth, the gap had grown quite significantly, something that he found odd as it had closed on almost everybody else.

'She must be an early bloomer even for a girl then.'

Before, the top of Harry's head had reached to her forehead. Now though, the top of Harry's head came barely up to the bottom of her nose.

"Aw!" Mocked Daphne, clearly picking up on his discomfort. "What an adorable little thing you are!"

"Please tell me you didn't waste your summer developing a potion to make you taller?" Harry asked dryly, to which Daphne responded by getting an odd gleam in her eye.

"What a wonderful idea! Unfortunately no, I did not. I spent most of my summer in France."

"A decent consolation prize, I reckon." Harry mused, prompting Daphne to nod thoughtfully.

"I think so, yes." She said, making her way over to one of the desks and taking a seat, gesturing for Harry to do the same. He internally rolled his eyes. Daphne had an odd habit of always needing to be in control, or, at least, to feel as if she were.

"How was your summer?" She asked, prompting Harry to bite down on the urge to tell the truth and watch her reaction.

'Bet her famous mask of indifference would crack under that pressure.'

"It was eventful." He decided upon, "Probably the best I've ever had." He did not mention that such a thing was more due to the fact that he had spent his previous summers, with the exception of his last, and first, he supposed, locked in a cupboard and worked like a house elf. Such things were unnecessary to their conversation.

"I'm glad to hear that." She said with a genuine smile. "I was afraid you may have been going through withdrawal. It had been so long since we'd seen each other, after all."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "You have a very high opinion of yourself, don't you Greengrass?"

Daphne just quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, do you not, Potter?"

Several months ago, he'd have probably blushed but now, with the help of a little bit of Occlumency, he managed to keep a perfectly straight face. "Not as high as your own, I imagine."

Daphne laughed softly. "You're learning." She complemented with a smirk. "I have officially corrupted the Gryffindor golden boy!"

"I really wish you wouldn't call me that." Harry told her. "As a matter of fact, I really wish you'd actually use my first name."

Daphne just scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous! You're dealing with a Slytherin, everything with us is earned!" She tilted her chin up in an exaggeratedly snobbish manner and Harry just shook his head with a small smile, admittedly amused.

'Well, she got one thing right, even if she greatly exaggerated; I really did miss Daphne.'

"Or bought." Harry quipped, and Daphne's lip twitched.

"For some, but I have more than enough gold. I doubt you could even tempt me with currency."

Harry just chuckled again before throwing up his hands. "Ok, ok," he conceded, knowing that she would not drop this customary game of hers until he gave in, "you win, you win!"

Daphne just nodded in satisfaction. "You really are learning!" She praised, before finally, her face took on a more serious expression. "Did you get a chance to read over some of the book on Runes that I sent you over the summer?"

'Damn, since when have I failed to get to a book?'

"Amazingly enough, no, I haven't." He admitted, prompting Daphne to peer at him questioningly. "I told you, I had an eventful summer." He reiterated.

"Clearly," she said, "well, I guess I'll start from the beginning then. I'm assuming you would like to start with Runes, seeing as we never did get to it last year?"

"Yes," he answered at once, leaning forward in his seat and giving her his full attention. Daphne shuddered imperceptibly. There was something about those green eyes — an intensity that one could never quite be prepared for.

"Ok then," she said after a slight pause, taking on the tone of voice she saved exclusively for lectures. Harry thought absentmindedly that she would make an excellent, if admittedly strict teacher. "What is the number one rule of magic?" She asked him, prompting him to answer without hesitation, not going to get such a thing wrong and prepared for her habit of asking questions.

"Magic is all about intent. Incantations and wand movements are secondary."

"Correct," said Daphne, "I'd give points but I can't, and even if I could, I'd probably be arrested on the spot for high treason."

"Wouldn't you be arrested on the spot for high treason anyways if somebody in your house knew you were here?" Harry quipped back.

Daphne smirked. "Probably." She admitted. "Anyways, Runes are the purest form of intent. They cut out wand movements and incantations completely and allow a witch or wizard to carry out their intent through Runes and Runes alone."

"I have a rough idea of what they are," Harry told her, "but what are some things they're used for?"

Daphne smiled, clearly approving of his question. "There are a million things I could name." She told him. "A lot of the most powerful wards use Runes, and most magical devices use them too. Do you have a broom compass?" She asked to his great surprise, causing him to nod. "There you go; that uses Runes. So does your trunk if you have one that's magically enhanced, and your broom, and on, and on, and on."

"So anything with a magical enhancement?"

"Not necessarily. I mean — I could enchant a compass without Runes, but it wouldn't be permanent unless I had magical ability equal or close too Dumbledore's." She shrugged. "The only real limit with Runes is creativity. You can do almost anything with them if you understand them well enough."

"Well," said Harry, thoroughly sold on her pitch at that point, "let's get started!"

By the time they had finished the lecture, with Harry taking notes at a rapid pace the entire time, his mind was more fatigued than it had been in quite some time. It turned out that Runes were extremely complicated even before you learned how to use them, as Harry found himself learning an ancient language that he had never imagined he'd be learning — Elder Futhark. To Harry's incredulity, Daphne informed him that it would be far from the last language he would have to learn.

With this in mind, he was thoroughly brain dead by the time he made to exit ahead of Daphne but before he reached the door, an idea came to him.

"Say, Daphne?" He asked, to which she hummed in acknowledgement. "Your family sells potions, right?"

* * *

**September 16th 1992.**

**The Library.**

**6:49 PM.**

Ginny pressed her hands over her temples in utter frustration. As it turned out, Tom was a genius in Potions, as he seemed to be in every other subject as well. Unfortunately for Ginny, she was not, and she was scrambling to digest all of the information she would need to pass their practical test the next day in Potions. It was great that Tom knew the answers and it was odd, seemingly impossible how quickly he managed to paint the image in her mind of what he was trying to articulate even through parchment but at the same time, it wasn't the same as somebody truly helping her through it. That, above all else, was what Ginny needed right now.

"Excuse me?" A quiet, timmid sounding voice asked from nearby, a voice that caused Ginny to glance up. Standing in front of her was a girl whom she had seen around and knew to be in the same year as Ron and Harry, though she did not know her by name. She was fairly average looking except, of course, for her mane of bushy brown hair and her imperfect teeth, both of which stood out quite a bit. "Could I sit with you? The rest of the spots in here are full."

After giving the library a quick once over and realizing that this girl was right, Ginny nodded, going back to her notes and diary for ten long, agonizing minutes before she growled in frustration, pressing her hands to her temples once more.

"What is it?" The bushy haired girl across the table from her asked, causing Ginny to look up in surprise.

'N-nothing," she stammered, "I'm just trying to cram for a Potions test tomorrow, but it's not going particularly well."

The girl frowned, clearly able to sympathize. "I could help if you'd like? I'm quite good at Potions, I think."

Ginny's mouth fell agape. "You-you'd help me?" She asked, to which the other girl nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course I would help you!" She answered. "Can I see what you're working on?"

And they were off.

To her credit, the other girl turned out to be more than pretty good at Potions. As a matter of fact, Ginny was baffled at her encyclopedic knowledge, something she had only seen rivaled by Tom and Percy, though she had been told that Harry was in the same boat, despite her never seeing that side of him in action. By the time they were done, Ginny felt remarkably better about the test tomorrow and across from her, the second year Gryffindor allowed herself, for the first time in many months, to feel a slight bubble of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could finally make a friend at Hogwarts.

"I never got your name." Ginny pointed out as they stood to leave, fully intending to fall back on this girl at her next moment of need. The girl struck Ginny as the type who would absolutely jump at the opportunity to help her and though she was a bit overbearing, Ginny would more than happily put up with her if it meant her marks would sky rocket. After all, friends, acquaintances, nobodies or enemies, people all had their uses.

'Huh? Since when have I ever thought anything like that?'

The other girl smiled, seemingly oblivious to the oddly complex thoughts in the young red-head's mind as she extended a hand to the smaller girl. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry! I'm Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you."

* * *

**September 17th 1992.**

**The Great Hall.**

**8:04 AM.**

Despite himself, Harry could not withhold his natural reaction when he saw an owl carrying a parcel stamped with the emblem representing the Greengrass's potions business swooping towards him. His three friends who were, as always, sitting by his side noticed the reaction at once, as it was a rather uncharacteristically malicious smile that had briefly flickered across their friend's face.

"Uh, mate?" Ron asked with an uncharacteristic amount of caution. Harry hummed in acknowledgement as he began to unwrap the package in question, putting a rather large number of galleons into the pouch on the owl's other leg. "Uh... what exactly is that?"

Harry's face once again took on that same, malicious smile as he turned to the four of them, discreetly showing off two crystal vials containing an odd looking potion that was coloured a lurid orange. "This, gentlemen," he said with a gleam in his eye, "is the carrier of our revenge on the idiots who used us as test dummies."

All of a sudden, the three of their faces morphed from concern to anticipation, as all three of them had been more than a little upset with the twins and had only restrained themselves from acting on Harry's assurance that he had a master plan in play.

"Brilliant!" They all answered as one, all of them, even Ron, standing from the table and leaving the food and the hall behind them to plan how it was that they would carry out their revenge.

* * *

**September 17th 1992.**

**The Great Hall. **

**6:11 PM.**

The Gryffindor table was quite the jovial place that night at dinner. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had just had one of its best, if not its very best practice not only of that year, but since Harry and Katie had joined the team the year previous. In celebration of this, the twins, Fred and George, had loudly proclaimed that they would be procuring some delicacies and beverages for the house to enjoy in their common room later that night after dinner. As a result of this, the entire table was a buzz, and that buzz grew to a standing ovation that thoroughly baffled everybody else in the hall as Fred and George made their arrival a few minutes late, mock bowing to the lot of them with broad, rather pleased grins upon their identical faces.

"It went well?" Harry asked, offering the twins seats near he and his friends who tonight sat with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Well? Oh Harrikins, it went splendidly!" Answered Fred, letting his eyes roam over the table. "We should have grabbed drinks from the kitchen Feorge, I'm parched."

"As am I, brother dear."

"Here." Said Neville, offering the twins a full pitcher of orange juice.

They beamed.

"Blimey!" Said Fred as he took a large gulp straight out of the pitcher before handing it to his twin. "They haven't had orange juice here in ages!"

"Guess it's just our lucky day!" George said with a satisfied grin plastered on his face as he and his twin sat back in their seats and enjoyed the splendid day they had experienced.

That revery lasted for all of ten seconds before it went horribly wrong for the both of them.

In an instant, both twins clutched their stomachs and doubled over in their chairs, grimacing horribly as the rest of the team began to take notice.

"Um... guys?" Katie asked timidly. "W-what's happening to them?"

"Juice must've gone down the wrong hole," Oliver dismissed with his typical air of casual confidence, "nothing to worry a — blimey!" As he spoke, the twins changed in front of their very eyes, shrinking drastically in size as their vivid red hair receded into their scalps and their bodies lost their well built, muscular tone, giving way to more than a little bit of baby fat as the two of them were reduced to infants in their seats. Their eyes, however, still carried the same teenage intelligence, eyes that were focused in horror upon Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville, all four of whom wore satisfied smirks as they tried to hide their laughter. To their luck, it became unnecessary a moment later, as much of the hall had taken notice of the twins' predicament and after a moment of complete, utter silence, the hall erupted into gales of laughter.

It was an odd scene to see Professor McGonagall gently carrying two crying infants out of the hall, though she did not manage to do so before a note had been conveniently stuck to one of their robes, which had mercifully shrunken down with them.

_Here's a little present to show you exactly how mature the two of you idiots are._

_Mess with the lions, you get the teeth!_

* * *

**September 17th 1992.**

**The Gryffindor Common Room.**

**10:40 PM.**

"I've gotta hand it to you, mate," said Ron with a satisfied smile as he sipped on his pumpkin juice and picked up yet another one of the brilliant cookies that Fred and George had smuggled into the common room before walking into their trap. "That was even better than I thought it would be."

"Yeah," agreed Neville with amazement, "where did you get that potion? It must have been really rare and expensive."

"Ordered it," answered Harry vaguely, not quite willing to let his friends in on his sort of friendship with Daphne. "I'll admit though, when it said fast acting, I didn't think it would be THAT fast acting."

"Kinda cool it was though," said Dean with a grin, "the sight of McGonagall carrying the twins out of the hall like she was their mum is gonna live on in this castle forever!" They all laughed at the image.

"True," said Ron through fits of laughter, "I don't even reckon Fred and George have pulled off anything like that before! We'll be famous! They'll talk about us in Gryffindor forever!" Though the school at large didn't know who had performed the prank, the Gryffindors had all seen their reactions and under intense but light hearted questioning in the common room, Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville had admitted what they had done to storming applause, though Harry had not revealed how he had masterminded it nor pulled it off, that was not a story for all to hear.

* * *

**The Past.**

**September 17th 1992.**

**The Quiddich Pitch.**

**4:48 PM.**

"Good practice boys!" Said Fred proudly, clasping Harry and Ron on the shoulder as the team walked back into the changing rooms.

"And girls!" Protested Alicia.

Fred merely shrugged. "If you like." He mocked, earning him a mock glare in return from all three of the chasers. "Well," he said, unphased as he and his twin through their brooms over their shoulder. "See you lot at dinner. Save us a spot, will you?" It was a sort of tradition for the team to eat together after each and every practice and game.

"Why?" Angelina asked suspiciously. "Where are you two heading off too?"

"The one time we're not going to cause trouble is the one time she says anything." Remarked George, causing Fred to nod along seriously.

"The one time? I ALWAYS say something!"

"Funny," mused Fred, "I've never heard you say anything about anything like that, have you, brother of mine?"

"That's a no from me Feorge." Answered George.

"Hearing and listening are two different things." Said Angelina exasperatedly, but try as she might, she could not keep the smile off of her face. "Maybe if you tried the latter, you'd have more success."

"An experiment for another day, I think." Said George as the twins waved and made their exit.

Angelina just shook her head but unseen by any, the smallest male on the team had slipped quietly out of the changing room, throwing an odd, silvery cloak over top of himself as he followed the twins all the way to the kitchens, a marvellous find in his mind, where he had a rather pleasant conversation with a number of all too helpful house elves.

* * *

**The Present.**

**September 18th 1992.**

**The Hospital Wing.**

**2:04 AM.**

"Psst, Fred!" Hissed George mere moments after awaking. His memory of his time as an infant was limited, but he remembered enough to piece together both who had done this to them and the fact that it had taken longer to counter than it should have. As it turned out, Pomfrey had to floo call a contact to allow her to pick up the antidote, as she had not had any on hand. "Fred, are you awake?"

"Yeah," whispered back Fred, "been awake for a few minutes, I was waiting on you. Oi, George, read this!"

As George took hold of the note passed to him by Fred, his brother discreetly cast a silencing charm on the door that led to Madam Pomfrey's private quarters. As expected, George's jaw fell open upon reading the note before, a second later, he burst out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. A moment later, Fred cracked up too. Their voices were still unnaturally high, and it made for a rather amusing scene.

"Blimey, brother dear," said George through the stitch that was now present in his side, "finally, we've corrupted them!"

"Yeah, wouldn't have wasted time with those hints to Harrikins if we knew all we had to do was prank him."

"Well," said George after a moment, sounding reluctant, "I suppose we're even now, aren't we?"

"I suppose we are." Fred answered, a mischievous glint dancing behind his eyes, though in the all consuming darkness of the hospital wing now that George had extinguished his wand, his brother did not see it. "We can't have that, can we?"

"Why of course not, brother of mine!" George responded deviously. "If they want to play, we'll show them hot to play!"

"If it's a war they want," they proclaimed together, "it's a war they'll get!"

* * *

**September 21st 1992.**

**The Great Hall.**

**8:12 AM.**

The first day of fall had come, and Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville walked into the hall that morning ready to begin their third week at Hogwarts. For Harry, the year was going quite well so far. His classes were, as he had expected, child's play with the exception of Potions, Astronomy and Herbology. As for his extra curricular studies, he could almost multi-task perfectly while his mind was clear. He could do most things perfectly; it was only when trying to remember more intellectual content or cast particularly difficult spells that he had any problems at all.

All in all, he was quite happy with the way the year was going so far, and he felt more than ready to start the week. Apparently though, he was not quite as eager as Ron, who had spotted a tray of bacon and made a beeline for the nearest seats to that aforementioned tray, cutting right in front of Harry as he did so. As he walked in front of Harry, he noticed something odd; weird markings seemed to have been drawn on the back of Ron's robes.

"Oi, Ron-" but he froze, as did most of the people around him when his voice came out comically high, as if he were a muggle who had just inhaled helium. Many around him gaped or laughed openly as he flushed red as a tomato. "What the — ugh! What is going on?"

"Harry," tried Neville from behind him, but his voice too suffered from the same ailment that Harry's did. Unlike Harry though, Neville persevered. "What are those markings on the back of your robes?"

'God damnit!'

"Runes," he breathed out, his whisper coming out even higher than his normal speech, "someone drew runes on our backs." As he said this, his eyes fell on the twins, both of whom were conspicuously looking anywhere but at the four of them.

The hall was in shambles now as almost every student in the school was howling with laughter. The fiasco went on for another five minutes before Professor Flitwick took pity on the four of them and managed to reverse the spell only after he had skillfully removed the Runes from their clothes.

When Harry sat down, he received an owl not five minutes later, with nothing but a small, nondescript note carried by the bird, who did not wait for his reply.

_Don't mess with a lion?_

_Hah! _

_You four really think you're the king's of the jungle? _

_Tread carefully in the jungle kiddies, you might just get eaten alive!_

"Oh, it's on!" Hissed Ron, whose face was still positively burning with embarrassment and humiliation. The other three of them could do nothing but nod along in grim agreement.

* * *

**October 1st 1992.**

**The Great Hall.**

**8:13 AM.**

It had been a normal breakfast, as had been the norm for more than a week until an owl swooped down to land in front of Professor McGonagall with a note that was unmistakably a howler. As one, the entire hall fell deathly quiet as McGonagall merely raised an eyebrow and opened the envelope. The explosion of noise, when it did erupt through the hall turned out to be the absolute last thing that anyone would have ever expected as two similar voices echoed off of the walls.

"OH, MINERVA MCGONAGALL, YOU MAY THINK US SWINE.

BUT WE THINK THAT YOU'RE POSITIVELY DEVINE!

EVEN THOUGH YOUR HAIR IS GREY AND YOU'RE TERRIBLY STRICT

WE'D LIKE NOTHING MORE THAN FOR YOU TO PLAY WITH OUR DICKS!"

If the voices of the Weasley twins had not been recognizable in the note, their back and forward manner of speaking was certainly a dead giveaway. As for the two boys in question, they were staring up at the staff table in slack jawed disbelief, drastically paling by the second as their Transfiguration professor looked ready to explode.

"How the hell did they do that?" Whispered George in awe, looking down the table to where, much like the rest of the school body who were not shocked nor horrified into silence, Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville were losing their battle with uncontrollable fits of laughter.

"No idea, but we're dead!" Hissed back Fred as Professor McGonagall's face began to reddin as she recovered from her shock.

"Yeah, but we're taking them with us. This means war!"

* * *

**October 9th 1992.**

**The Gryffindor Common Room.**

**11:47 PM.**

Harry had been rather proud of the prank they had pulled on the twins involving the staged love letter to McGonagall. Granted, it had been Ron's idea, lyrics and all, but he was the one who had done the blastedly difficult charm work, something he would have never managed had he not subtly asked Dumbledore if it was possible to copy and manipulate somebody's voice through magic during one of their lessons. The old man had shot him a rather curious look but he had, as usual, answered Harry's question with little hesitation.

Upon further reflection, Harry thought the prank may have been a little bit overkill, especially when one took into account the 30 points each of the twins had lost Gryffindor and the week of detention they had suffered. That had been until today, when the twins had somehow managed to convince Peeves to come flying in during their lesson with Snape and the Slytherins and trash the place. The worst part was when he had loudly proclaiming how proud he was to do Harry and his friends' bidding all the way. This had earned them a week of detentions themselves, and 25 points each from Gryffindor. Now, the four of them slumped into arm chairs near the fire after scrubbing away at trophies for hours under the watchful eye of Argus Filch.

"No bloody magic," Ron was complaining, "and then Peeves had to come in and tip over that damn plaque so I had to scrub it again because," he screwed up his voice, doing his best impression of Filch, "do you have any idea the filth on these floors? No, you'll scrub it again or you'll pack your bags!" Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust. "If I have to see the name Tom Marvolo Riddle again, on a trophy or otherwise this year, I'm gonna throw myself off of the astronomy tower."

"I feel that." Said Dean, rubbing at his arm as if it were going to fall off, which, in all four of their cases, felt like a serious possibility.

"This is getting a bit out of hand." Neville said. "Do you think we can just call for a truce?"

"I'm not letting them win!" Hissed Harry. "If we call for a truce, it'll be so with a wand to their throats. If we call for a truce, we're making sure they have no choice in the matter."

"Umm... call me crazy," said Dean with a wicked grin, "but I think I have an idea." They all looked at him expectantly. "I know Harry will have, but have you two ever heard of super glue?"

* * *

**October 17th 1992.**

**Gryffindor Tower.**

**Fourth Year Boys Dormatory.**

**9:36 AM.**

Fred and George Weasley had always been late risers. As such, they were fairly accustomed to being the only two boys in their dormitory upon waking. What they were not accustomed to, however, was waking up to the sight of four second years leering at them. What they were even less accustomed to, was waking up in nothing but their boxers stuck to the ceiling and looking straight down towards the floor.

"What the fuck!" Cursed Fred, trying madly to free himself from the ceiling but he could barely move. "What in the actual fuck! You dicks!"

"Calm down, brother dear," taunted Ron, doing his best to mimick the twins' manner of speaking. "We only want to chat."

"To negotiate," corrected Harry.

"We're not interested!" Hissed Fred, enraged.

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked with a smirk. "Correct me if I'm wrong, friends of mine," he asked Harry, Ron and Neville, "but it doesn't really look like they've got a choice, does it?"

The twins hissed in fury. "What do you want?" George asked, who seemed the more cool headed out of the two.

"A truce." Said Neville. "This has gone far enough at this point. We have lives to live and pranks are fun and all, but they've gotten a bit out of hand lately."

"No!" Snapped Fred. "I'm not calling off anything. When I get down from this ceiling-"

"Yeah, about that," said Harry with a devious smile, "trust me when I say you're not getting off that ceiling unless we want you to." They had, using a sleeping potion that Harry had brewed, assured the twins would not wake up as they used a mixture of super glue, sticking charms, and Runes to lengthen and strengthen the effect, which Harry had asked for help with from Daphne during their last meeting, to stick the twins to the ceiling. "Either you negotiate now," proposed Harry, "or we leave you on that ceiling for the rest of your dorm mates to find you. So, Fredikins, Georgikins, what will it be?"

The twins did not answer for a long moment before they spoke as one. "A compromise!"

"The Halloween feast," started Fred.

"We'll both plan pranks of some kind."

"But not on each other, and nothing that can do real harm."

"Let's see who outdoes who!"

"Winner takes all!"

The room was dead silent for several seconds before, in a perfect imitation of the twins, the four second year Gryffindors spoke as one.

"You're on!"

* * *

**October 17th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**10:43 AM.**

Ginny was shaking with fear, confusion and astonishment. She had been through full nights of revision the last two days with Hermione for Potions, so she had been quite out of it last night. With that being said though, she did not remember entering, nor could she explain why on earth she woke up, or at least came to be in a puddle of water in a girl's bathroom that wasn't even in use anymore.

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**Author's Endnote:**

**I must admit that was a filler chapter if I've ever written one, but there was some important setup in there, both obvious and not obvious, so it was necessary to write something for this period of time. I hope you guys enjoyed the change of pace, because it was devilishly hard, but admittedly super fun to write.**

**Please read and review. **


	23. LOS Ch 8: Halloween

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Thank you to my beta Umar for his rad work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.

**Parseltongue. **

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 8: Halloween.**

**October 18th 1992.**

* * *

**October 18th 1992.**

**An Abandoned Classroom**

**8:37 PM.**

"We could stick them to the table, arse up. That would be one way to end this bloody prank war!"

"We agreed to no pranks on each other, remember?"

"Shit!"

Two near identical laughs rang out through the abandoned classroom as the last speaker recomposed himself. "I really want to get somebody bad, you know? Dangling from a bloody ceiling did not do my temper any favours."

A glint came into the eye of the last speakers' twin. "Why, brother dear, we can get people very badly, just not those four people."

A pause before the other voice piped up again. "I'm listening?"

"Well, you know that spell McGonagall just taught us, right?"

"Which one? The switching spell?"

"Precisely!"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well, it'll take some tweaking but if we can't get those four little delinquents, why not settle for a bunch of other people who have given us hell since we joined this marvellous institution?"

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm always thinking what you're thinking!"

"Like… a fourth of the student population?"

"Wearing green and silver robes?"

The Weasley twins paused, smiling mischievous smiles that bordered on downright evil. "I like the way you think, Feorge!"

"Ah geez, Gred, you're making me blush."

"At least it'd match the hair."

"Too true." A pause. "We're gonna get 'em with this one!"

"Too right. I'd love to see the little rascals top this one!"

* * *

**Meanwhile In The Room of Requirement.**

"Bloody hell!" Ron breathed out in utter awe as he and Dean followed their other two friends into a room the likes of which they had never seen before. Currently, it rested in the form of a rather titanic sitting room with diagrams and other planning mechanisms spread across the tables and walls. "What is this place?"

"This, my friends," said the raven haired boy with an exaggerated, sweeping gesture around them, "is what I like to call The Room of Requirement!"

"Wait," Dean put in sharply, putting two and two together in regards to the name, "Harry, are you telling us that this room meets the users requirement?"

"Got it in one!" Harry said in an over the top sort of voice, the mischievous smirk only spreading across his face. "Anything you want, this lovely little room will provide." He shrugged. "Well, I say little, but I guess it's actually as big or small as you need it to be."

"This is brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, allowing his eyes to roam hungrily around the room.

"You have no idea." Neville said proudly. It had been his idea to let the other two members of their quartet in on the marvellous Room of Requirement. Truthfully, he had wanted to tell them since about the moment Harry had revealed it to him almost a year earlier. He hadn't dared do so though, since he knew Harry had rather pronounced trust issues that sometimes even extended onto his closest friends. Not that Neville was in any real place to judge.

Every time he thought about those trust issues, his mind liked to make sure he remembered exactly how untrusting and petty he had been towards Harry after the midnight duel in their first year. With that in mind, he could hardly blame his brother in all but blood for his attitude and as a result, he had refrained from revealing what he considered to be the most splendid place he had ever stepped foot in. In saying so, he had not missed the opportunity to convince Harry it was high time to show them the room when the two of them realized they would need a hidden place to plan their prank for the feast.

None of them knew how they did it, but the Weasley twins knew Hogwarts better than anybody, and Harry had insisted that some abandoned classroom wouldn't be good enough. As he spouted off the possibility of the Weasley twins eavesdropping on their planning sessions, Neville reflected that maybe, just maybe, his friend was taking perhaps a little bit too much after old Mad-Eye, but he had humoured him. That paranoia, after all, had been the catalyst in Neville convincing Harry to let their friends in on the secret.

"_I mean, come on, Harry, it's perfect! There's no way the twins can eavesdrop because we can just ask the room not to let them!" _Those were the exact words Neville had used after spending a considerable amount of time convincing Harry that Ron and Dean were more than trustworthy. He thought Harry likely knew that fact, but he figured his upbringing got in the way of him trusting people sometimes.

"Can it do anything… like, literally anything?" Dean asked, snapping Neville's mind back to the forefront as he exchanged a look with Harry.

"I know it can't do food." Neville answered. "I've tried having it make food and it can't."

"Weird that." Ron noted.

"Not really." Harry put in. "It's one of Gamp's laws for Transfiguration. You can't just create food. You can increase the quantity, but you can't make it." He shrugged. "I'm not sure if it could create living things either. That's normally a bit of a grey area."

Ron shrugged. "If those are the only limits, this place is the most brilliant place I've ever seen!"

Dean nodded seriously. "It's pretty wicked!" He admitted, smiling devilishly ear to ear. There was a moment's pause before Harry took control of the conversation.

"Right, as brilliant as this room is, me and Nev didn't show it to you just to have you lot gush about it; there will be plenty of time for that in the future." He took the time to allow a hard, determined look to slide into place and his three friends suddenly noticed how the ever present glow behind his eyes seemed to intensify by at least a margin. "Right now, we need to figure out how we're going to outprank the two best pranksters in the school, who also just happen to be two years older than us."

"I still think there's something to be said for the red paint." Dean put in. "I dunno how we'd make it work and it would never come in on time by order, but it's a thought."

"As for how we'll make it work," Harry said, "I have an idea, but I'll need to experiment a bit." He smirked. "As for ordering some," he closed his eyes, seeming to concentrate for a second before, with an odd shimmer, a heaping bucket of Gryffindor red paint appeared at his feet. "Your wish is my command!"

"Brilliant!" Chorused the other three as one, all of them dawning similarly mischievous grins in perfect unison.

* * *

**October 19th 1992.**

**The Dungeons.**

**10:30 AM.**

Harry and his friends fumed as they left their first period Potions class with the Slytherins. Snape had been awful even by his own lofty standards and Gryffindor was now down thirty points.

"That git's a menace." Ron said darkly. "Why Dumbledore lets him teach, I have no clue."

"Him and his second chances." Sighed Neville dramatically, drawing air quotes around the words "second chances".

"If only we could get back at him without getting thrown out of here." Harry commented. "Hell, even if I thought I could get away with it, I'd stage some sort of massive cauldron explosion. Get him out of here for a few months, at least."

"Yeah, but he'd figure it was you even if it wasn't." Ron put in reasonably. "He takes points off of you for sneezing."

"You're not wrong." Harry said, sighing theatrically as he looked to his friends.

That's when three of the group of four realized that their fourth member, Dean, was not following them anymore. He had stopped in mid stride as a positively devilish smile made itself present on his face.

"Speaking of Potions accidents," Harry said carefully, "did he botch his like… really bad? Are the fumes going to make him go mental or something?"

"Dean," Neville asked cautiously, "are you alright?"

"Alright," Dean breathed in barely more than a whisper before his voice took on a more normal volume, "Neville, my good chap, I am so much better than alright!"

The other three exchanged looks. They were all feeling rather downtrodden after that class and none of them could imagine why their fourth member seemed so up beat.

"Er… care to explain why?" Ron asked hesitantly.

Dean's smile, if possible, grew even wider. "Ron, that's the best idea you've had in ages." He said, taking a few steps forward to join the group as he draped an arm over Ron's shoulders as the four of them set off once more. "I thought of a way we could use the red paint! Merlin over here just needs to figure out how we'd do it." And just like that, he had the other three's undivided attention.

* * *

**October 21st 1992.**

**The Room of Requirement.**

**8:13 PM.**

Harry's knockback jinx sent the dummy crashing so hard into the wall that it burst into straw and could not even repair itself. Harry would have gaped at the effects of the spell, or perhaps even whooped in triumph that finally, he had managed the task he'd been pursuing for so long. Seeing as Harry's mind was completely clear and under control, however, he did none of those things.

At long last, Harry had done it. He could keep a completely clear and controlled mind while multi-tasking and after months of practice, that ability even extended to spell casting. Supplementary Occlumency was now a go, and his next step was to master casting incantations without uttering a word.

**October 23rd 1992.**

**The Headmaster's Office.**

**7:59 PM.**

Harry took his seat across from Dumbledore for yet another lesson in Active Occlumency. As a whole, he thought the practice had been going rather well so far. He had established rudimentary Occlumency barriers and had nearly mastered the first method of quickly and efficiently repelling a Legilimency probe. He knew that way wasn't necessarily the best method, but he still took a fair bit of pleasure in his proficiency. Tonight, Harry had a few things he wanted to ask the ancient headmaster.

"Before we begin," Dumbledore started, "I know I ask this each and every week, so I do apologize if such questions are becoming monotonous to answer, but how have your extra curricular studies advanced in the field of Passive Occlumency?"

"They've gone really well, sir." Harry answered honestly, a smile more proud than the Headmaster had ever seen spreading across his face as he spoke. "I can multi-task perfectly now; even while casting. I've spent the last couple of days practicing Supplementary Occlumency and I'm pretty sure I've got it down!"

Dumbledore positively beamed at his protege as the twinkle in his eyes went up to eleven. "This is excellent progress, Harry! Beyond excellent, as a matter of fact. I am very proud of your progression, my boy. You are well on your way to gaining a mastery of The Mind Arts at a very young age." He nodded in satisfaction. "This is very good indeed, for we are nearing the end of this step of Active Occlumency and will be moving forward quite soon. Perhaps even with the turning of the month."

Harry's smile, if possible, grew even wider with that surprising proclamation. "Sir," Harry asked Dumbledore, earning a raised eyebrow from the man, "I wanted to ask you if Occlumency could help with something else? I haven't seen it written anywhere yet, but it's something I thought of while trying to solve another problem of mine."

Dumbledore's lips twitched. "Harry, by now I would hope it evident that you can ask me just about anything. As it is, I am rather intrigued by what I am sure will be a very insightful theory."

"Well… I've been trying to learn silent casting, you see?" If Dumbledore was surprised he did not show it. "Do you know if Occlumency could help me master it? I've been having some troubles trying to get it to work and I'm on… uh… a deadline, you could say?"

Dumbledore's eyebrow crooked, though only marginally. "I am not surprised you are having difficulties with silent casting." The Headmaster answered after a moment's pause. "There is a distinct reason the ability is not covered until the sixth year."

Harry frowned. "Is it going to have negative effects if I try to learn it too young?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, no, rest easy, my dear boy, it is nothing so sinister. A fair few of Hogwarts' more gifted students throughout the years have managed the ability prior to their sixth year. Why, if I am not mistaken, your mother was capable of it by the time she started her fifth year and your father and his… friend were not far behind her." Harry noticed the way Dumbledore paused and he thought that the man must be referring to Sirius Black. Harry debated bringing him up, but he didn't trust Dumbledore to that degree, at least not yet.

"Why isn't it taught until sixth year, sir? Can somebody as young as me not do it for some reason?"

"Your estimations are trending in the right direction, but you have not quite put the full puzzle together as of yet. Allow me to elucidate. Do you know what makes a wizard powerful, Harry? Do you know what distinguishes one wizard from another? What allows one sorcerer to be magically superior to his or her companions?"

Harry thought about it. "Well, dedication would certainly help somebody stand out. That's what's helped me most, I think. I don't know how magical power works though, if it's even a thing at all."

"Oh, it is most certainly a thing, as you call it." The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched at Harry's chosen categorization. "Let us first answer my second question. What distinguishes one witch or wizard from another? Well, that is a rather philosophical question that could be answered in many ways and I imagine some would bring up other points but in my rather well educated opinion, when looking at the question through the narrow lens of magic, there are four fundamental pillars that must be examined.

"The first of these pillars is understanding. This is where your point of dedication would factor in on a microcosmic level. To gain a true understanding of magic, one must be dedicated, as you so accurately alluded to. An understanding of magic is essential to standing above your peers. You must understand magic's capabilities, its shortcomings and its intricacies. Those of us who understand magic on a level far deeper than most, if you will forgive my rather crude categorization, ordinary witches and wizards, have a profound advantage over such witches and wizards."

Harry nodded; that made perfect sense to him and in hindsight, he probably should have thought of that.

"The second," Dumbledore continued, "is in many ways an extension of the first because without its former, it cannot exist." Dumbledore peered at Harry over his steepled fingers. "Tell me, Harry, what is the number one rule of magic?"

Now it was Harry's mouth's turn to twitch. He found it rather amusing how Daphne had asked the same question as Dumbledore not that long ago. "Magic is about intent," he answered, "wand movements and incantations are secondary."

"Precisely correct and very well said." Dumbledore commended. "The second pillar is intent but more precisely, the mastery of said intent. One who has mastered their intent and can will it into reality is naturally going to find magic comes far easier to them. There are other, deeper concepts that allow this feat easier for some than others, but we do not need to dive so deep at this time. Suffice to say that a witch or wizard who understands the importance of intent and can wield it with the ease of a swordsmen swinging his most prized possession will find they stand above most of the rest on this alone.

"The third sphere, again, works off of the second. It is all fine and dandy to master one's intent and understand what such a mastery means. In the end, however, this matters very little for most. Most men and women simply accept that magic is predefined in its applications and limitations. Most sorcerers do not dare to push the boundaries of magic. The third sphere, Harry, is creativity. Those who have mastered the first two pillars, understanding and intent, will have little issue wielding most magics but if they are simply wielding the same spells as the rest of us, what difference does it make? The fundamentals are essential, of course, but the true titans of magic simply wave their wand and will their creativity to take shape in front of their eyes." Dumbledore paused to smile at his student. "Do you follow so far, Harry? I do apologize for extrapolating your question so far."

"I do sir, and please don't apologize. I love magic and its theory and I actually find this conversation fascinating."

"Do you? Well then, that is a relief in and of itself. You cannot spend as much time with me as you do without falling victim to my ramblings on the wonders of magic. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, the fourth pillar. Any guesses?"

There was one major component, or, a component that seemed major to Harry that Dumbledore had yet to mention beyond in passing. "Power, sir?"

"And there it is." Dumbledore told him. "This is how I will tie it altogether. In truth, Harry, power is something that I personally think is far less important than the other three. You can overcharge a spell, such things are very possible but in saying so, a given spell does have predetermined limits. Where power truly comes into play is two fold. In one case, it will play a role in one's magical stamina. If, for example, one was to be caught in a prolonged duel with somebody equal to them in the first three pillars, the more powerful sorcerer would prevail on attrition alone, even if they did not overcharge their spells. The other area power is important in, is when one is trying to perform magic on a grand scale. Large scale conjurations and animations would be an example of this, but occasions like these are few and far between, and few will ever even attempt it in their lives.

"Now, my second question, what makes a witch or wizard powerful? Well, how much, Harry, do you know of muggle biology?"

Harry blinked; whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that. "Uh… a bit, sir, but honestly not a whole lot. Nothing beyond the basics were really covered before I came to Hogwarts and it honestly wasn't a huge interest of mine."

"Do not worry yourself, dear boy, it is not a complex subject I must explain. You are of course familiar with the concept of DNA?"

Harry nodded. "Yes sir."

"Well, in many ways, DNA is what determines magical power, but it is more complex than that. I believe the term I am looking for here is a genome." When he saw that Harry's face was blank, Dumbledore continued. "You see, Harry, a genome is a component of one's blood that holds details about one's DNA and genetic makeup. That is, for muggles." His eyes twinkled. "Well the same is true for a witch and wizard, the genomes also carry information about our magic."

"Wait," Harry cut in, "doesn't that mean the pureblood bigots sort of have a point?"

"Ah, I thought that point may come up. Magical power is not determined by blood, Harry, it is simply where the information is stored. Genetics do play a part for certain. If one had very powerful parents, they themselves will likely have a very high potential for power. In addition, if a family were to… hmm, shall we say — dilute their line, that would have a profoundly negative effect on their offspring's magical potential. It is similar to muggle athletics, I believe. Just because somebody has two parents who competed at a world renowned level does not mean that they will reach that same level, though it does often grant an advantage. In the same vein, many top muggle athletes were born to parents who were profoundly unathletic." He shrugged. "Do you see the point I am trying to make?"

"I think so." Harry answered honestly. It wasn't random, there were certainly genetic factors that went into it, but it was not the only factor.

"I cannot provide you a detailed breakdown on exactly what determines how powerful every living witch or wizard is because such information simply does not exist. It is still theory in large part, but those are the basics, along with one more fundamental. Magic is everywhere, it is all around us and it surrounds us as we speak. This coding in our blood and in our bodies does not mean we have more magic. We do not have any magic. Magic is a force all around us and what this genetic coding details is how much magic we can intake and then output, and how efficiently it can be done. Do you follow?"

"I think so, sir. So like… muggles would be like rubber to electricity and we would be metal?"

"A very astute and apt analogy, Harry. Yes, think of us as conductors, some of us are predisposed to being better conductors than others. Muggles lack the coding to take in any magic at all, so as you said, they are akin to rubber. In saying so, that does not make somebody powerful, it simply provides them with a high power ceiling. One could be genetically predisposed as the most powerful sorcerer in the world but never ascend to anything above average in terms of magical power.

"And this is where my long winded explanation ties back into your question about wordless magic. Magic is a muscle, Harry. No matter one's potential, they can only reach it by casting magic. Have you noticed that spells you use frequently are much less difficult now than when you first learned them? By example, when you are first taught Lumos, you are taught that the wand movement is a quick circle and then to point your wand up vertically, correct?" Harry nodded. "Well, cast Lumos for me, Harry, but do so simply holding your wand in a set position. Point it at the floor, even. On top of that, do not visualize, simply cast."

Harry hesitated but removed his wand as instructed and pointed it at the floor. "Lumos." He muttered, and the tip lit without issue. Startled, Harry looked to Dumbledore, who was smiling broadly.

"You see? The nature of the spell does not matter in most cases. If you cast magic enough, that magic will become second nature to you. It is the same with magical power. The more you cast magic, the more you will elevate yourself towards that ceiling. Now, to tie this into your question about wordless magic, casting a spell without words does indeed require far greater concentration than incantation based magic and that is one of the reasons it is not introduced until N.E.W.T classes. In addition to that, however, removing incantations also requires more magical power, in a sense. By sixth year, it is thought that most, if not all of our students should have hit or should be nearing their magical ceiling, hence why we teach the most taxing magic at that point."

Harry nodded, it made sense. "So, I can do it, but it will just be harder?"

"Precisely. Though between the two of us, I imagine your magic is rather more developed than most everyone else your age."

"Why is that, sir?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You have used magic more advanced than your peers for quite some time now." His face darkened. "And I imagine you had… more accidental magic as a child that was more focused and less… accidental."

Harry nodded; the man was right on both counts and it made sense. "So, Occlumency?" He prompted.

"Oh yes, that was the original question, wasn't it? Occlumency is not only capable of helping with the process, but it is more than likely going to expedite the process greatly." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Use your Occlumency to guide your thoughts in the direction of your intent and focus on it as much as you can." His face gained a mischievous expression. "And you may wish to find the strand of Passive Occlumency that I refer to as Thought Streams and perhaps work on it. It is a rather delicate branch so please advance slowly and read my notes carefully."

Harry nodded. "Of course, sir. Thank you."

"It is my pleasure to expedite the process of learning, Harry. If I may be so bold, why is it you are so insistent on learning wordless magic?"

"Uh… you can keep a secret, sir?"

"Why of course, Harry."

"I'm working with Alastor Moody-"

"Ah, yes, I thought that may have been it. Say no more, I understand completely." His eyes were twinkling like mad as he smiled benignly at Harry.

"You… knew?"

"Why of course not, I merely suspected, though you did just confirm said suspicion."

Harry sighed. "I guess I did, didn't I?"

"Augusta has trained you well thus far, but there is very much you do not know about politics and evasion. If I may be so bold, it is no insult to her character, if anything it is the opposite, but Augusta was never one for subtlety. It is a valuable trait in politics, and I do hope you will take the time to learn it from others."

"I'll… do my best, sir."

"Splendid! Now, was there anything else you would like to ask me before we truly begin our lesson? I must confess, I find these conversations most exhilarating."

Harry smiled, he couldn't help it. "I'm glad to be of service, professor." He answered cheekily before taking on a more business like demeanour. "Sir, I read about the switching spell in a transfiguration text and I had some questions about it."

* * *

**October 31st 1992.**

**The Great Hall.**

**6:03 PM.**

Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville entered The Great Hall and immediately cast their gaze around, taking note of the impressive assortment of decorations both magical and mundane that were on display. "They really do outdo themselves, don't they?" Ron asked fondly, and Harry nodded.

"Let's hope we get to enjoy it this year." He responded. "No trolls running around that we need to beat this year, I hope."

"Yeah," Neville put in darkly, "I can't afford to lose this wand."

"You know," Ron mused, "that was probably the stupidest yet coolest thing I've ever done in my life." Harry and Neville locked eyes and Harry knew that both of them were thinking about Harry rushing off after Quirrell and The Philosopher's Stone.

"So glad I could make your Halloween entertaining." Neville said dryly, causing Ron to laugh as they took their seats at the table — the exact seats they had coordinated in advance, as a matter of fact. Harry reached under the table with his foot and felt around. A second later, his foot hit an invisible something and he smirked, knowing that their plan would go off without a hitch.

"Personally," he muttered, "I think this might be the dumbest thing we've ever done, but that's just me."

"It's gonna be brilliant though!" Ron whispered back excitedly.

"Unless we get caught." Dean deadpanned. "Then, being thrown out of Hogwarts will probably be the least of our worries."

"Let's not talk about that." Harry said quickly. "We'll be fine. We just have to hope we can outdo the terrors." Speaking of said terrors, both of them chose that moment to stride confidently into the hall and take seats directly beside Harry's quartet.

"Happy Halloween, gentlemen." George said with an air of exasperated excitement.

"You as well." Harry responded, allowing the most confident variant of a smirk he could think up to cross his face. "Nervous?"

The twins smirked right back at him. "Oh, Harrikins, how delightfully naive of you to think you have a chance." Fred said with a grin that was all teeth.

Harry shrugged. "Naivety is to assume you're going to win something. I don't assume anything; I'm sure of it."

George threw back his head and laughed, clasping Harry on the shoulder from beside him, not noticing the momentary tense he drew from the younger lion. "I like this one, Gred."

"Yeah, it's got fangs." Fred responded, amused.

"Oh, Fredikins," Harry bit back in a sing-song voice, "you have no idea."

The twins looked scandalized. "How did you know which of us was which?" George asked with legitimate incredulity.

Harry smirked. "I didn't, but you just confirmed it and now I know exactly how to tell in the future." Fred had a small, faint scar at the corner of his mouth and that was what Harry would be using to tell the twins apart.

'Thanks for that trick, Headmaster.'

The twins exchanged looks as Harry's friends laughed openly. "A worthy challenger." George conceded.

"Not worthy enough," George assured, "but worthy."

All conversation ceased a moment later when food of all sorts appeared on the table and the students and staff began to chow down in unison. Harry enjoyed the experience. It was nice to just be a normal kid and sit there with his friends enjoying the normal activities put on by the school. As soon as Dumbledore swept to his feet to make some announcements about the Quidditch schedule as well as a speech on the historical significance of Halloween and Samhain alike, Harry knew it was showtime. There was a moment where he, Ron, Dean and Neville locked eyes with the twins and in that instant, a silent competition raged to see who would make the opening move.

This lasted a full minute before, with an exaggerated sigh, the twins discreetly withdrew their wands. "Fine." Said Fred.

"Have it your way." Whispered George, and then, as one they incanted in a whisper. Harry realized instantly that whatever they had done, it was triggered by a password of sorts, not an incantation.

"Ballesnakey."

'What?' Harry had enough time to think before the hall erupted in a chorus of surprised, terrified and furious screams. Within a second, Dumbledore had broken off his speech to peer over towards the source of the commotion and for the first time in living memory, Harry found the Headmaster to be thoroughly dumbstruck. Within five seconds, everybody in the hall was on their feet to investigate for themselves and within ten, they were all howling in unrestrained laughter.

Over at the Slytherin table, the formerly dignified house of cunning and ambition, including several heirs and heiresses to powerful political families had gone through a sudden wardrobe malfunction. Instead of their typical black robes emblazoned with Salazar's chosen symbol, they all wore what Harry vaguely recognized as lurid pink leotards. Harry couldn't help it, within seconds, he was doubled over laughing with the rest of the hall, though there was a few seconds where he could do nothing but stand and gape. Ron was actually rolling on the floor, and Dean looked like he was only seconds away from a similar fiasco.

The chaos raged on for nearly three minutes before Dumbledore silenced the hall with a firework from his wand. To Harry's amusement, his eyes were twinkling and instead of getting furious or indignant, the man simply told the hall to take their seats once more. This drew another round of laughter as the Slytherins loudly protested, many of them hurling blatant obscenities at the Headmaster, who seemed not to notice. In an effort to appease his charges, Snape swept to his feet and began his path towards his house table, likely to try and reverse whatever magic the twins had managed. With a smirk, Ron turned to the twins, not even batting an eye at their victorious demeanour. "Playtime's over, kiddies." He told them, imitating the name the twins had given to Harry's group

"Indeed," Harry continued, trying to emulate the calm, level voice Dumbledore always used when delivering that word before he allowed a cruel smile to cross his face, "it's showtime!" As subtly as he could manage, Harry drew his wand, focused on his desired target and gave it a flick in the general direction of Hogwarts' resident Potions Master.

"Regimo."

The switching spell took effect at once and immediately, the hall was in fits of laughter once more as the red paint that was hidden in the bucket under the Gryffindor table and Harry's invisibility cloak promptly switched itself out for the oil in Snape's hair. Within a second, he had red paint pouring out of his hair and down his robes and he actually stumbled and nearly fell. Better still, it was not simply red paint, but red paint in the exact shade of the primary house colour for Gryffindor.

In the next few minutes, Harry was not entirely certain about what he enjoyed more. On one hand, the frenzy of hysteria that tore through The Great Hall was positively marvellous but on another, the horrified, dumbstruck look on the twins' faces may have taken the cake. Finally, Dumbledore took control once more and told the hall in a positively genial manner that it was probably best they concluded the feast a bit early. After all, it was best the Slytherins returned to their dormitories where they could change into proper robes, since nothing Snape had tried after cleaning himself off had any effect on their current attire.

As they were leaving the hall, much of Slytherin electing to follow the rest of the school up the stairs as well in order to get to a restroom to change, seeing as it was closer than their common room, Harry froze with utter terror as he heard something he had hoped to never hear again.

"**So close… so tantalizingly close. Let me rip you, let me tear you, let me kill you." **

Harry paled immediately and instantly, he summoned his wand into his hand. "Harry?" Neville asked. "What-"

"Shut up!" Harry hissed at Neville as he could hear the voice again, further away now.

"**So close… so close — I smell blood, I smell blood!"**

Upon later reflection, Harry had no idea what he was thinking when he threw on his reacquired invisibility cloak and took the stairs at a flat sprint. Ducking through a passageway in order to beat the rest of the student body to whatever was going on upstairs. The only thing he could think was that just like last year, a student was in mortal danger and just like last year, Harry's overwhelming sense of morality refused to allow the student in question to die.

Harry didn't even need hindsight to realize how foolish of an idea that was. No, Harry realized the moment he skidded into the second floor corridor and froze, a look of horror on his face as the sounds of the approaching mass of students grew louder by the second. In his hazy mind, Harry did not even worry about the implications of being caught at the scene of the crime nor did he consider how foolish that fear would have been, seeing as he was currently invisible. At that moment, Harry was far too focused on the crime itself.

Dangling from a torch bracket, still, cold and unmoving was Mrs. Norris and on the wall behind her, vivid words were written in what, to Harry, looked unmistakeably like blood.

_The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened._

_Enemies of The Heir Beware._

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**Author's Endnote:**

**I'm pretty happy with the way this one turned out. I think it was a good mix of info, light hearted fun and serious plot points.**

**I honestly didn't expect to dive into magical theory this early on in the story, but that scene with Dumbledore practically wrote itself. With that in mind, I have never read a magical theory system quite like the one I am using, but I have definitely taken conscious inspiration from several other works.**

**The most notable of which are:**

**A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Harry Potter and The International Triwizard Tournament by Salient.**

**The Legacy by StorytellerSpW. **

**The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.**

**Magicks of The Arcane by Eilyfe. **

**And Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.**

**In addition, I would like to give PoS another shoutout because the system of mind magic I am using in this and my other story, Harry Potter and The Ashes of Chaos is very similar to the one used in that story. I have messaged the author and acquired permission to use much of his system for mind magic because frankly, if there is an idea for The Mind Arts, it has been written. In light of that, if I am going to inevitably copy somebody even accidentally, I may as well use the system I think is the best and make my own additions.**

**Also, the magical theory I discussed in this story will likely carry over across all of my works, as I just think it works the best and I have thought about it in detail. Also, I have always thought magical cores were stupid, so I needed a better explanation. A shoutout to Discord user Yoshi89 for helping me with the system and explanations. **

**Additionally, I know I butchered human biology in this chapter. That was completely intentional both to make it easier to understand and because frankly, for all of his many talents, Dumbledore is not a biologist (nor am I).**

**And finally, I am very happy you all seem to enjoy Dumbledore, because there will be a lot of him in the next few chapters.**

**With all of that out of the way, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and I am eager to hear your thoughts.**

**Please read and review.**

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**PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, May 3th at Approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	24. LOS Ch 9: Confessions and Conspiracies

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.

**Parseltongue. **

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 9: Confessions and Conspiracies.**

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**October 31st 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**The Second Floor.**

**7:21 PM.**

Harry remained frozen in absolute shock and astonishment as he gazed upon the frozen form of Mrs. Norris and the ominous writing upon the wall until the sound of the oncoming mass of students grew loud enough to indicate that they had all practically arrived. For a number of seconds, Harry had the fleeting impulse to run, but then, he realized that he was safely hidden underneath the invisibility cloak. Silently, Harry thanked any deities that may exist for providing him the foresight to at least not remove the cloak, even if he was realizing by this point that rushing off after whatever had spoken of blood and murder had probably been a rather poor idea.

As the students all entered the corridor, every single one of them, even the Slytherins, who were still comically dressed in leotards, froze in much the same manner that Harry himself had done mere moments earlier. Harry took that opportunity to slip in between the frozen students, still invisible, and begin to work his way back towards Neville, Ron and Dean.

As he did so, he had the most odd sensation of… something cold washing over him. It was hard to explain but it was as if a freezing droplet of water had fallen into the pit of his stomach. Just as he noticed the phenomenon, Filch's loud, oily voice permeated the oppressive silence that had fallen over the corridor as a whole and mere moments after he had realized the apparent fate of his cat and fallen to his knees in an apparent mixture of fury and despair, several of the teachers including Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape, Lockhart and Dumbledore swept onto the scene.

As Harry managed to sidle up to his friends, he could have swore that Dumbledore's eyes flicked over to him for the briefest of seconds. Crouching as not to be seen once Dumbledore had looked away, Harry removed his cloak of invisibility and straightened up, an act that caused Neville to jump about a foot in the air. "Shh!" Harry told his friends in a whisper.

"Harry?" Ron asked, trying to spot what on earth was going on. "What-"

"Not now!" Harry hissed, and the seriousness of his voice made it apparent that he was not willing to argue.

"But-"

"Listen, I know what happened but I have no clue how it happened and I need you to please, please tell anybody who asks that I was with you guys the whole time or this is going to look really bad on me."

Ron nodded mutely, as if giving up Harry to a teacher had never even crossed his mind. Neville's eyes had narrowed upon him at the same moment as Dean, the tallest boy in their year, gasped as he managed to spot the gruesome sight at the front of the crowd and quickly began relaying the information to Ron and Neville just as a loud, clear, all too familiar voice ran out in a triumphant manner that was a stark juxtaposition to the pink leotard that clung to the speaker's slim body.

"Enemies of the Heir beware. Watch out mudbloods, blood traitors; you're next!"

At the mention of the word "mudblood" Dean's posture stiffened and Harry's wand hand flexed. He wished he could summon his wand and curse Malfoy to oblivion. Sadly, he knew that drawing any attention to oneself at present was a rather dreadful idea, something he did his utmost best to communicate to his three friends with looks alone.

A moment later, Harry spotted Dumbledore and the other teachers exiting the corridor with Mrs. Norris in hand and a distraught looking caretaker on their heels. As Dumbledore was leaving, he locked eyes with Harry, and the younger boy nearly jumped out of his skin when a small but obvious voice practically spoke in his mind.

'Follow.'

Shocked, Harry glanced from Dumbledore, who was now looking in the complete opposite direction, to his three friends, who were by this point staring at him expectantly. "Harry," Ron tried again, "what in the hell-"

"I'm sorry," Harry told them genuinely, trying to project his very real empathy through his emerald eyed stare, "I have to go again… Dumbledore… well, I'll explain everything later, I promise." And before any of his three friends could object, Harry had bent down once more, thrown the cloak on over top of himself and followed the Professors at a brisk pace. As he followed them, Harry tried to keep up with their conversation but it was difficult. He did not want to draw too close to them in case he somehow managed to give himself away. Before long, the teachers had all ducked into a room and Dumbledore, who swept in last, held the door open for just a few seconds longer than was normal, his eyes sweeping around the seemingly empty corridor meaningfully. Taking the hint with a fair bit of surprise, Harry scampered into the room that he now recognized as Lockhart's office, making sure to brush up against the Headmaster as he did so in an effort to alert the man to his presence. Subtly, Dumbledore nodded in what Harry thought was satisfaction before he quietly closed the door and turned to his colleagues and caretaker.

At once, Dumbledore quickly stepped up to the desk upon which the still unmoving form of Mrs. Norris lay and withdrew his long, dark wand from his sleeve. As Dumbledore ran the wand up and down the body of the cat in question, Filch had sunk to his knees once more and was loudly proclaiming how the little bastards had killed her. Meanwhile, Lockhart was muttering something incomprehensible about how he had seen something similar and how if he was just a few minutes earlier, he could have saved the poor creature. Before his monologue could conclude, however, Dumbledore's voice cut him off rather sharply, despite the fact that it was as calm and level as ever.

"She is not dead, Argus." Immediately, Lockhart's muttering ceased and Snape, Flitwick and McGonagall all moved forward to cast their own charms as Dumbledore, who's face had nearly been touching Mrs. Norris a moment earlier, stepped back.

"Well what happened then?" Filch demanded furiously. "Which one of the little shits did it?"

"No student could have done this." Dumbledore said, and though his voice was still calm, there was an odd sort of edge to it that Harry had never heard there before.

"Are you certain of this, Headmaster?" Snape asked bluntly. "There was at least one student who was noticeably conspicuous by his absence during our ascent to the corridor, one who has been labeled by many in this very room as a prodigy-"

"Who are you suggesting, Severus?" Flitwick asked him.

Snape sneered. "The very boy who you have tutored for months against my recommendation, Fillius."

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus." McGonagall said sharply. "No second year could have done this sort of magic."

Snape rolled his eyes. "It was thought that no first year could manage O+'s in-"

"Enough." Dumbledore's voice was quiet but it was sharp, authoritative and commanding and Snape, Flitwick and McGonagall all fell silent immediately as Dumbledore's eyes briefly flashed from Harry back to Snape. "Harry did not commit the crime you seem to be accusing him of, Severus. Of that at least, I am certain."

Snape sneered again. "Are you truly certain, headmaster? I know he is your protégé and such, but-"

"But such things grant me more of an insight into Harry Potter than you have ever gleaned through your own preconceived notions and singularly biased observations." Dumbledore did not sound accusatory, but the insinuation was rather obvious. In a way, Harry felt oddly touched by the man's vehement defense of him and he felt an odd warmth rise from the pit of his stomach to the center of his chest.

"You are certain?" Snape asked.

"I am." Dumbledore returned, and his tone and manner left no room for arguments. "I am not certain of what nature the magic that caused this was, but I assure each of you that it is far above the scope of any Hogwarts student."

"Do you not have theories, Albus?" McGonagall asked, and Harry was shocked to hear her voice waver.

"Why Minerva, I have dozens, but which of them if any are near to the truth, I have no idea." He shook his head, a look of utter sadness plastered upon his wrinkled face. "For now, allow Mrs. Norris to rest in the hospital wing. I very much doubt any wanded magic will be able to reverse what has been done to her tonight, and I suspect very strongly that we will have no choice but to wait for the Mandrakes to fully mature."

"And what is it exactly that has happened?" Snape asked silkily.

"Mrs. Norris has been petrified." Dumbledore said simply. "How this was achieved, I do not know. I can think of several methods to achieve such a thing, but it is very clear to me that none of them have been used. Do you perhaps have any ideas, Severus?" Snape paused, running his wand over Mrs. Norris's prone form for yet another minute before shaking his head curtly. "In that case," Dumbledore sighed, "I think it best that we allow Mrs. Norris to rest in the hospital wing and adjourn this most impromptu meeting."

"What of the students?" Flitwick asked him. "Do we implement a new curfew? Conduct a search of the student body?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "As of now, there is no need to instill panic in what will already be a rather shaken student body. For now, we wait. We shall see if this mysterious Heir plays his hand too early." Harry noted that Dumbledore, who always seemed to be above such mistakes referred to the possible heir as only a "he" which made the young Gryffindor wonder if Dumbledore knew something on the matter that he himself did not.

A minute or so later, the staff were all exiting the room and Dumbledore, again the last one out the door, cast a brief glance over his shoulder and jerked his head in a gesture that was rather obviously meant to signify Harry should follow him. Not sure whether or not to remove his cloak, Harry decided against it and simply followed the Headmaster in silence until, minutes later, Dumbledore waved his wand and caused the door of his study to swing open. With another wave of his wand, Harry's usual chair appeared across his desk and only when, after allowing an oddly long period of time to pass since its opening, Dumbledore closed the door did he speak at all. "You may remove your cloak now, Harry."

Without hesitating, Harry did as he was asked, folding it neatly before he shakily stepped forward and took the seat across from Dumbledore. "I must apologize for earlier." Dumbledore began. "I imagine a psychic message was rather jarring for you to receive for the first time in such a manner, but I thought your presence would be paramount."

"Professor, I promise I didn't-"

"Calm yourself, Harry. I was not lying to my companions back in Gilderoy's office. I am well and completely aware that you did not cause the fiasco involving Mrs. Norris."

Harry relaxed instantly and looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry, Professor. I shouldn't have assumed…"

"It's quite alright, Harry." Dumbledore paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing the conversation. "You did yourself no favours fleeing to the scene of the crime while under your family's cloak." Dumbledore told him. "I do trust you did not do such a thing for no reason at all, so tell me, Harry, if you would be so kind, what caused this course of action in the first place?"

Harry hesitated. "There's some… background to this I should explain first, sir."

Dumbledore sighed, looking as if that one comment had aged him ten long years. "Before you do so, Harry, is it suffice to say that you have not been quite as forthcoming with information as you had promised?"

Harry winced but did not look away. "Yes sir." He answered. "I didn't mean to keep secrets from you. I honestly just doubted the events; I thought I was delirious at the time, or something. I had just spent all night in detention with Lockhart."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched and Harry noticed that for the first time ever when using a teacher's informal name, Dumbledore did not call him on it. "A rather apt reason to assume delirium." He told Harry. "I am not upset with you, Harry, I simply wish to understand the full scope of tonight's events. Many of us withhold information from one another. Such a thing is not a crime."

"Right, well, near the end of that detention, I heard a voice, but it was… odd? I don't really know how to explain it. It didn't exactly sound human — it was like nails scraping across a chalkboard but when I asked Lockhart whether or not he had heard anything, he told me that he hadn't." Harry frowned. "I guess he could have lied, but if he did, he is a very convincing actor."

Dumbledore peered at Harry from over his folded fingers. "Do not underestimate Gilderoy Lockhart, Harry." He said carefully. "The man is no prodigy with a wand, but he most certainly has his talents and I think you will find that a flare for the dramatic arts is chief amongst them. In any case, I do not believe that Professor Lockhart lied about not hearing the voice. That is, assuming my theory is correct that tonight, you heard the same voice?" Harry nodded. "Harry, please do not take this the wrong way; I do believe you are being honest and I do believe that voice has spoken to you, so please do not overreact. But tonight, nobody else heard any sort of voice." Harry tensed at that revelation. If not for Dumbledore's words, he would perhaps wonder whether or not he was going a bit barmy. "Can you tell me what the voice said, Harry? Was it personal? Vague? Be as specific as you can, if possible."

"I remember exactly what it said." Harry assured Dumbledore. "The first night in Lockhart's office, it said rip… tear... kill. Let me rip you, let me tear you, let me kill you." Harry watched Dumbledore closely for a reaction, any reaction, but he got none. "I thought it was talking specifically to me at the time, but now, I don't think whatever it was minded who it went after."

"An astute deduction that I think is likely correct." Dumbledore conceded with the air of somebody who had recently sucked on a rather sour lemon. "And tonight? He prompted.

"It smelled blood." Harry said dryly. "So close, so tantalizingly close were its exact words." Harry gazed imploringly at his headmaster. "You don't think I'm going mad or anything, do you sir?"

Dumbledore's features softened. "No Harry, I do not think it at all likely that is the solution to this mystery. I merely think that your house elf admirer may have been very much correct in his warnings."

"Do you know what it is, sir? Could it be some kind of spirit? A demon, or something?"

"I do not know what the creature is," Dumbledore said, "though I am fairly confident it is a creature of some sort. I do not think a spirit or anything of the like is possible, between the two of us. Spirits rarely have the power to affect the living so directly and so drastically. I have never heard of a spirit doing anything like what happened tonight."

"Do you have any guesses?"

"Again, I was not lying to Minerva. I have dozens, but that does not help us a great deal, does it?"

Harry shook his head before he hesitated. "What about the message, sir? Enemies of the Heir beware? Do you have any idea what that means?"

Briefly, Harry noticed an indistinguishable emotion flash past Dumbledore's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "I can only guess." He answered neutrally.

"Are there-are there any guesses you would be comfortable sharing, sir?"

"Not quite yet, Harry." Dumbledore responded with a benign smile. "I will share them with you if any become more likely than the others, as I believe you have a right to know, seeing this debauckle seems to affect you so directly. For now, however, allow yourself a rest bit. Focus on your classes, your Occlumency, your own self improvement and what I am sure will be a most marvellously magical Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin this next weekend."

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**October 31st 1992.**

**The Room of Requirement.**

**9:06 PM.**

Despite Dumbledore saying that curfew would not be changed as a result of the attacks, it was enacted early on Halloween as a precaution. As a result of this, Harry had to sneak Ron, Dean and Neville to the Room of Requirement under the cloak. It took two trips, as three people could just barely squeeze under said cloak as long as Ron and Dean did not go at the same time. In saying that, fitting a fourth person under the cloak would have been completely impossible.

When the four second year Gryffindors were finally gathered in the Room of Requirement, they all turned hard, expectant stares upon Harry. Personally, Harry would much, much rather be explaining this to Neville alone. It was not that he didn't trust his other two friends, but the level of trust between him and Neville was on a different level and these were rather important secrets. Seeing as he had fled from them at the scene of the crime, it didn't really matter what Harry wanted, since it was quite obvious that he owed all three of them an explanation.

It was rather awkward explaining to three people that he had been hearing voices that nobody else could hear, but Ron and Dean relaxed drastically after hearing Dumbledore's assurances that he was not going mad. Neville did not relax, but Harry thought that likely had more to do with the fact that he was probably upset at Harry for telling Dumbledore before him.

"So Dumbledore has no clue what it is or why only you can hear it?" Ron asked, sounding more surprised that Dumbledore didn't have an answer than he was about the actual events themselves.

"I told you," Harry said tiredly, "he said he has guesses. He could be bluffing, but I doubt it. Say what you want about Dumbledore, but he's not quite as barmy as people like to think he is and he always seems to know what's going on around here."

"Course he does!" Ron said proudly. "He's Dumbledore, isn't he?" Briefly, Harry and Neville exchanged loaded glances at that proclamation, though the exchange was not caught by either of their other two friends.

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**November 2nd 1992.**

**The Charms Classroom.**

**8:42 PM.**

Harry slumped to the floor once more as Flitwick's bludgeoning curse caught him completely off guard after slipping through his defenses. After the first two weeks of the year, he and Flitwick had resumed their lessons and Harry had found them to be as helpful as ever. He had clearly improved leaps and bounds, something that was made evident during their mock duels. He had still yet to best Flitwick. As a matter of fact, he still hadn't really landed much on the man at all, but he had snuck in a well placed cutting curse the last time they practiced and opened a cut on the man's arm. After he beat Harry a few minutes later, instead of being upset, Flitwick positively beamed at his pupil for his accomplishment. Harry was rather proud of it too, seeing as Flitwick was a former multiple time world champion duelist.

Tonight, Harry had lasted nearly twice as long as his previous best time against Flitwick. Suffice to say, Supplementary Occlumency was very useful. The man had been completely taken aback when his protégé's spells sailed towards him so much faster than ever before, and he had been even more surprised when the punch behind them did not suffer as a result. Mind you, he had still beaten Harry without too much effort on his part, but this was progress. It was even more impressive when one considered that Flitwick had started casting wordlessly during their duels. This infuriated Harry both because it made it far more difficult for him and because it was almost like a slap in the face, since he was struggling so much with the ability. Still, he was very, very proud of their progress and so was Flitwick, which he made obvious with a fair bit of praise before Harry walked out the door.

When he left the room and began to walk back to his common room, Harry crossed paths with a short, thin strawberry blonde whom he recognized to be Daphne's friend. Davis, he thought her surname was. As they passed one another, the girl stumbled, falling forward and clasping onto Harry's hand for balance. At first, Harry was rather annoyed, but as he felt the slip of parchment forced into his hand, he could hardly be agitated.

"Oh! I am so sorry!" Davis exclaimed, righting herself before blushing furiously. "I-I-"

"Davis," Harry cut her off, glancing around before smiling at her easily, "don't be so dramatic. There's no one around; the act is unnecessary. Thanks for the note, but next time, could you please do it without nearly knocking me over if there is nobody around to see you handing it to me?" Davis flushed but in spite of herself, she smiled.

"Sure thing, Potter. Good luck with that, by the way." And before Harry could inquire further, Tracey Davis briskly walked off in the opposite direction, leaving a thoroughly exasperated Harry to read the note from his favourite friend in Slytherin.

_Potter,_

_The usual place, Wednesday at 7:00 PM. _

_Do not dare be late._

_Daphne._

Harry crooked an eyebrow. He was not sure if the fact that no playful jabs had been thrown was a good or a bad sign, but he supposed he would be finding out in less than forty-eight hours.

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**November 4th 1992.**

**The History of Magic Classroom.**

**1:24 PM.**

As usual, the first year Gryffindors had endured the first fifteen minutes or so of their weekly test in patience. Well, patience and staying awake. As usual, Harry had simply chosen to study other material. Today, it was the book of Ancient Runes that Daphne had sent him over the summer. He was really becoming interested in the subject and between his lessons with Daphne and his own study, he had quite the firm handle on Elder Futhark by this point. Now, they would be moving onto the next ancient language and Harry would solidify his understanding on Futhark on his own time. For possibly the first time ever in Binns's class, Harry's attention was brought back onto the lecture when Neville tapped his quill on the desk in front of him, drawing his attention from his book of Runes.

When he quirked a questioning brow at his best friend, Neville simply gestured in the direction of Hermione Granger and Harry's Interest piqued. Hermione's hand was raised in the air and though Binns did not seem to have noticed, the attention of the rest of the class was firmly upon her. None in the room could remember a time where anybody, not even Hermione Granger had raised their hand in History of Magic. When Binns seemed to notice the sudden pique in attention, he looked up. Privately, Harry thought it was the most observant thing the ghost had ever done. Then again, when one became so accustomed to nobody paying attention, it must have felt quite jarring to have the intense attention of an entire class.

Binns blinked as if coming out a trance and slowly, very slowly, his dull eyes rested upon Hermione. "You have a question Ms…"

"Granger, professor."

"Yes… yes, Granger, Granger. What is your question, Ms. Granger?"

"Well, I was wondering whether or not you could tell me about The Chamber of Secrets, sir?"

At that, Harry perked up. He remembered, vaguely, a passage on The Chamber of Secrets in _Hogwarts, A History. _If he was remembering correctly, it had been quite short and rather nondescript. From what he remembered, The Chamber of Secrets was one of the many myths that had been tied to the ancient castle over the centuries. The book had only mentioned it in passing, but it had said something about Slytherin if Harry was not incorrect. Something about Slytherin's final vengeance against the three other founders.

Professor Binns suddenly wore the look of somebody who looked as if they had been doused in cold water. "The… Chamber of Secrets, Ms. Graham?"

"Yes professor, and it's Granger."

"Yes yes, Ms. Granger. This class is History of Magic. History refers to what has happened in the past. The class is based on indisputable facts, not flimsy myths and legends. I will not delve into such faulty stories as that of The Chamber of Secrets." Binns made to return to his lecture, but Hermione did not give him the opportunity.

"Please, sir, don't most myths and legends have their basis in facts?"

Binns paused once more as the class seemed to hold its collective breath. Binns's dead eyes roamed over each of them before the ghost sighed in a matter far more dramatic than any of his classes had ever been. "Very well, very well. Let me think — hmm… yes, The Chamber of Secrets. You will all know of course that in the year 990, Hogwarts was founded by the four greatest sorcerers of the age. Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. I will not waste time explaining the house system to you because if you haven't figured it out yet, you should not be in my class. As it turned out, the founders worked in harmony for an unknown amount of time. Some historians estimate thirty years, but others say it was closer to ten."

Binns paused. "Everything I have just told you is factual information. Now, I must enter the realm of myths and legends." He made it sound as if this course of action was one that he found to be rather disgusting, but he did indeed continue. "As legend has it, whenever this period of time came to a close, it did so because of an argument between Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. Gryffindor wanted to educate all no matter where they came from. He said that every student with magic had a place at Hogwarts. Salazar disagreed; he said, again, according to legend, that any student with a muggle parent should not be welcome. It is said this sparked a major conflict. Some ridiculous retellings even say that the conflict came down to a duel, but such stories are just that, ridiculous. What is indisputable is that Slytherin did eventually leave the school. Some conspiracy theorists say that when he did, he left behind a hidden chamber. Inside the chamber, according to these people, is a monster with the capability of purging Hogwarts of any and all muggle born students." Binns coughed. "It should be noted that many Headmasters of this fine institution have been foolish enough to put stock in these theories and none of them have found anything to suggest that Slytherin left behind as much as a secret broom cupboard." Binns sighed. "Some even more foolish men and women have stated that eventually, Salazar Slytherin's true Heir will come to Hogwarts and with him will come the opening of this fantastical chamber and the unleashing of the monster within." If Binns was not so robotic in terms of his mannerisms, Harry would have expected him to laugh derisively. As it happened, he merely went back to reading his notes, ignoring any and all attempts to divert the conversation back towards the Chamber of Secrets.

* * *

**November 4th 1992.**

**An Abandoned Classroom.**

**6:58 PM.**

Harry had spent a bit of time this year pondering on how to avoid Daphne's habit of scaring the wits out of him whilst invisible. The best solution he had come up with was to arrive late in an effort to assure he was the last in the room. After the tone of her last letter, Harry did not think that course of action was particularly advisable on this night though. So instead, he showed up two minutes early and awaited Daphne's arrival.

He was ready for a hand to rest on his shoulder, or a push against his chest, or a whisper in his ear, or a whole other myriad of things that Daphne had done before in an effort to jump scare him. One thing he had most certainly not been expecting was to suddenly see a jet of purple light and find himself slumping to the floor due to what was unmistakably the full-body-bind curse. He could not so much as move but internally, he was panicking. Firstly because he had very obviously just been ambushed and secondly, because after ten long years of less than pleasant experiences, there was absolutely nothing Harry hated more than the feeling of being helpless. Unbidden, memories flowed to the surface of his mind, far too many memories that he had absolutely no interest whatsoever in reliving.

A few seconds later, Harry was rolled over and his eyes widened when he realized that it was indeed Daphne who was standing over him, and she did not look happy. Quickly, Daphne repositioned him so he was in a seated position up against the wall, and seconds later, she had rolled up the sleeve of his robe and removed his wand from its holster, stowing the offending weapon away in a pocket of her robes. Harry's heart rate quickened even more and his eyes began to bulge. His body was entirely tensed, partially due to his continued attempts at resistance and partially due to the myriad of memories and emotions washing over him like an oncoming tide.

"Good to see you, Harry, but please don't struggle." Daphne said in a poisonously sweet voice that would have made him flinch if he could have moved. She patted his arm, which was completely tensed as he tried in vain to free himself from the effects of her spell. When he tensed, Daphne paused and looked down at him and when their eyes met, hers widened in what looked like something akin to realization or even horror. Harry's eyes were wide and intense, giving him the look that one may expect to see on the face of a wounded or cornered animal. It was a look of fear and desperation, but also one of fury and intent. Daphne froze as her mind connected a few dots and suddenly she was internally cursing herself. She remembered how at the family gala for New Year's Eve the previous year, Harry had been rather tense during their dance and how, in the past, he had not reacted positively to touch. She had never asked about his home life, but he had never volunteered information either and suddenly, Daphne realized the scope of what she had just done.

"Oh… Merlin, Harry… I'm sorry I didn't-I didn't think." She waved her wand. "Finite Incantatem." She stepped back quickly, fearing he may leap to his feet and attack her or something similar, but he didn't. Instead, he did the last thing that Daphne wanted him to do. He let out a long, deep breath and relaxed only marginally before he slumped even further against the wall. He was breathing quite quickly as his body shook minutely. He did not cry, nor did he scream, but it was blatantly evident to Daphne that she had sparked quite a major breakdown. She would never claim to be a super empathetic person in general, but she felt a hippogriff sized bubble of guilt well up within her stomach and suddenly, she thought she may have preferred it if he had struck her.

Internally, Daphne debated what to do. She could leave the room; she should not be witnessing this, she did not deserve to be witnessing something so personal. If she did that though, it may lead to a permanent rift between the two of them, and that was not something she was overly eager to have happen. Also, Daphne may have been a Slytherin through and through, but for all of her qualities both negative and positive, nobody could accuse Daphne Greengrass of being a coward. Hesitantly, carefully, Daphne slowly made her way towards the still shaky form of Harry Potter and, kneeling down onto his level, Daphne very tentatively reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, Harry flinched back and Daphne winced.

"Harry," Daphne said softly, sighing in internal relief when the rare use of his first name mixed with the soft tone of her voice drew at least a fraction of his attention, "I didn't think, ok? I'm… sorry for what happened. It was meant as a sort of revenge for your part in the pranks but… ugh… I'm not good at this — I'm sorry, I'm not trying to hurt you, nor is anyone else right now."

The look in his eyes was still wild, but his body loosened up, if only a bit. Daphne met eyes with him and very slowly, very deliberately, seeming to ask for permission through her stare, Daphne placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, running it slowly up and down his arm for several minutes until she felt the Gryffindor in front of her relax to a semi normal posture.

"Never do that again!" His voice was not loud. In fact, it was rather quiet, but Daphne almost flinched herself at the force behind it as his emerald eyes locked onto her sapphire ones once more. It no longer looked like he was a wounded animal. Instead, it looked as if he were something ethereal, something with out of this world power that she had severely pissed off. There was still a sort of vulnerability in his eyes, but it was masked by sheer and unadulterated intent.

"I promise." Daphne said softly, actually allowing her head to droop. "I didn't expect… well, you know?"

There was a long, tense silence before Harry answered. "I don't expect you to understand nor do I expect you to be perfect, but never assume anything about anybody. There are things… things that you don't understand."

Daphne nodded, understanding his meaning without issue. "Do you… I don't know, want to talk about it?"

"Absolutely not." Harry answered with authority as he peered at her robes. "My wand, Daphne?"

She hesitated for only a second. "You're not going to curse me if I give it back to you, are you?"

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. "No, I'm not going to curse you, but if I don't have a way to use magic… if I don't have a way to get some control, I'm going to lose it."

Daphne nodded mutely, withdrawing her wand and holding it out to him, handle first. The moment Harry's fingers closed around the handle, a sigh of contentment escaped his lips and the remaining tension seemed to leave in unison with his breath. His legs shook a bit as he stood to his feet, though one would not have noticed if they did not know to look. He closed his eyes one final time and took three long, deep breaths before he opened them again. "I need to go." He told Daphne. "If I stay in this room…" he allowed his voice to trail off; he did not need to finish.

"Are we…" Daphne did not know how to finish that though either, "are we… ok?"

Harry took in another, long, deep breath, this one more calm, far less shaky. "We're ok," he answered after a long, tense pause, "but I really need to not be in a room with you right now."

Daphne nodded, relying on her own Occlumency to keep her emotions under control as Harry strode out of the room without a backwards glance. As he disappeared out of sight, Daphne let out a shuddery breath, one that she had not known she was holding. Daphne knew him, she knew he would not lie to her. Their friendship was not over, and he would get a hold of her when he was ready, but what she had just inadvertently done to one of her only friends absolutely tore her apart inside. As she left the room she wiped away the signs of weakness from her face. She did still have a rather dignified visage but for once, that visage had cracked and very nearly crumbled as a result of the all consuming pressure that it had been put under.

* * *

**November 5th 1992.**

**The Library.**

**8:24 PM.**

Ginny sighed with relief as usual when her and Hermione finished their typical Thursday night Potions revision. Her brewing ability had improved astronomically with the help of Hermione and Tom. Both of them had been integral parts of her success so far and by now, she was one of, if not the best Potioneer in their class. If Ginny was being honest with herself, that fact rather amused her, if only because it made Snape positively bitter. Then again, Ginny had not felt a whole lot of amusement as of late. She had not been sleeping well lately. She always woke up to weird dreams that she could never remember and it often felt as if she had been up all night and not slept at all. Tom had assured her that the same thing had happened to him during his first year at Hogwarts. He said it was perfectly normal and that it was simply the stress of a new environment setting in. To Ginny, that made perfect sense.

"Ginny?" Hermione asked, bringing the smaller red-head out of her musings as she blinked several times before focusing on Hermione. That was another thing, Ginny had been spacing out a lot lately. She found it really difficult to focus anywhere but remarkably, she still had no problems remembering everything that was said in class. As a matter of fact, she had never realized her memory was so sharp.

"Hmm?" She hummed by way of an answer.

"Do you think you could help me with something?" This got Ginny's attention. It had always been Hermione helping her with everything or, at the very most, them helping each other. Oddly, Ginny had the seemingly out of place impulse to flatly deny Hermione. After all, Hermione was here to help Ginny and to help Ginny only. She blinked; it was not the first time this year odd, uncharacteristic thoughts like that one had made themselves present, but Ginny still found the phenomenon odd.

"With what?" She asked quietly, focusing her full attention on Hermione.

"Well, Professor Binns told us about the Chamber of Secrets yesterday and I was wondering if you could help me do some research?" Oddly, Ginny felt a sudden surge of fear and anger but she quelled it. Tom had also explained to her the mysteries of puberty. He had told her that was likely why she was experiencing all of these odd, random emotions and Ginny had taken that at face value. As such, she figured this was just another one of those occasions, so she ignored it and focused.

"Um… sure, Hermione. Where do we start?"

Hermione beamed. "I thought you could start with some of the older history books and maybe look for references to Salazar Slytherin or the Chamber of Secrets. I'm going to look at some ancestry records and see if I can find anything out about his possible Heirs and Heiresses."

* * *

**November 7th 1992.**

**The Quidditch Pitch.**

**9:03 AM.**

Harry marvelled at the positively perfect conditions for the opening Quidditch match of the season as he and his six teammates squared off with the Slytherin team at the center of the pitch. He was rather nervous, as was normal for him before each match but this year, he noticed that he did feel significantly more confident than the year previous. He knew what he was capable of now, and he knew that his team was one of, if not the best at Hogwarts. In saying that, he could not pretend his heart did not speed up at least a little bit when his sharp green eyes rested upon the seven perfect racing brooms wielded by the Slytherin team.

Now more than ever, Harry was grateful for Neville and Augusta's gift. If not for it, he would be a lot more nervous to fly against this squad. At the thought of Augusta, his sharp eyes sought her out in the crowd and he found her without issue. She was sitting with Neville and Dean. Ron was on the pitch with the team. As a reserve, he would wait on the sidelines in case he was needed. Harry and Augusta had traded letters frequently since the beginning of the school year, as the older woman had also done with her grandson. Harry hadn't exactly explained the fiasco at Halloween in his last letter, but he had hinted that things were happening at Hogwarts once more and it would be best if they could speak about it as soon as possible. In response, Augusta had told Harry she would be at the match. She had wanted to watch him play anyway, she had said, so the need to speak was merely an apt excuse to attend.

All thoughts of Augusta, Neville and the Chamber of Secrets were washed away as soon as Madam Hooch blew the whistle and Harry shot into the air faster than any of his scarlet robed companions, revelling in the feeling of the wind whipping his well worn Quidditch robes around him.

Immediately, Harry shot towards the quaffle and snatched it out of the air. They had discussed strategies to best exploit his broom. Angelina was currently using his old Nimbus 2000, so she would at least also be on a state of the art broom. Harry quickly dodged a beater and weaved between two chasers but before he could do anymore, a bludger whistled towards him and he had to pass the quaffle off to a streaking Angelina and dive out of the way of the bludger. When he made to pull out of said dive, Harry's eyes widened with shock and bewilderment when it became evident the bludger had followed him. Harry flew straight towards it, performing a perfect sloth grip roll at the last second and allowing it to streak through empty air.

He turned, intent on rejoining the play when it sailed towards him again and this time, he dodged right. "Oi! Terrors!" Harry called, drawing the attention of the Weasley twins as he dodged the bludger again. With a nod, George flew towards him. Harry flew towards him as well and to those in the crowd, it looked as if the two teammates may collide but at the last second, Harry jerked his broom to the side, missing George by mere inches as the beater slammed his bat against the bludger.

Finally gifted with a reprieve, Harry swooped up from underneath the chasers and broke up a Slytherin offensive play. With the quaffle in hand, he made to fly up the pitch when he heard the unmissable sound of the same bludger. Again, he passed the quaffle, visibly and internally frustrated now as he dove again to dodge it. Harry did not claim to be the most knowledgeable on the field about the inner workings of Quidditch. In saying that, he knew that a bludger was most definitely not designed with the intent of targeting one player or position. As far as he could tell, the seemingly rogue bludger had not made one move towards anybody else the entire match and that fact was leaving him baffled, bamboozled and annoyed.

Five minutes later, each second of which Harry had spent dodging for his life, a timeout was called and Harry landed on the pitch with the rest of his team. As soon as he did so, Fred had to leap in front of him, wrestling the rogue bludger to the ground as it made wild attempts to behead the Gryffindor seeker.

"What the hell is going on?" Asked a very annoyed looking Oliver Wood. "Harry, why aren't you jumping into the play? It's our best weapon." His eyes focused on George. "Speaking of weapons, what the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to keep our best weapon alive, Oli." George said, gesturing to his brother, who was still struggling to pin the rambunctious bludger to the ground. "Someone's jinxed the bludger. I've been watching it all game and it's chased Harry no matter what he's done. I haven't seen it take a go at anybody else the whole match."

Silence followed George's statement, silence that was only broken by Fred's grunts of exertion and the ravenous crowd.

"What's the score?" Harry asked, not having been able to keep up with it during his wild game of tag with the bludger.

"We're down by fifty." Wood said bitterly. "Those brooms are blurs and without you jumping into the play…" he shook his head.

"We should forfeit." Alicia said reasonably. "We shouldn't risk Harry getting hurt and if he can't catch the snitch, we're doomed either way. At least if we give it up now, we've only lost by fifty."

"We are not forfeiting!" Fred bit back defiantly from the ground.

"What do you think, Harry?" Katie asked him. He was caught a bit off guard by the question but after a second or so of pause, his features hardened into the perfect image of resoluteness.

"I can catch the snitch as long as George leaves me alone. I don't have any room with him-"

"Don't be thick!" George argued. "That damn bludger will kill you."

"I can fend for myself, George." Harry looked at Oliver. "Tell him to leave it alone and continue the match." Immediately, much of his team protested and Angelina rounded on Wood, mocking his voice.

"Catch the snitch or die trying. What a stupid thing to tell him!"

Oliver looked from his angry chasers to his hardened and determined seeker. "You're sure about this, Harry?" He asked resignedly.

"Positive." Harry assured him, jaw set, eyes blazing. "I can catch the snitch and I can deal with the bludger. Don't forfeit; I have a plan."

Madam Hooch took that moment to march over to the Gryffindor team. "Are you ready to resume the game?" She asked pointedly.

Oliver looked from Harry, to George, to his chasers to Madam Hooch and nodded. "Yes ma'am, let's go." Before they all took to the air, Wood rested a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. "You have ten minutes, Harry. If you don't catch the snitch by then, I'm calling it. Angelina's right; I cared more about Quidditch last year. I'm letting this go only because I believe in you and because you asked for it, but I'm not going to let the bludger go at you all day. Eventually, you'll make a mistake." Harry nodded; they both knew it was inevitable, there was no point arguing.

This time, when the whistle blew, Harry did not bother darting into the play. Instead, he shot straight up, hovering far, far above the main game as he dodged, weaved, twirled and inverted to dodge the bludger. The whole time, his eyes roamed the stadium for any sign of gold. When he saw the Slytherins reclaim the quaffle and make their way up the pitch, Harry dove straight towards them, the bludger hot on his tail. Not only did he slice through their play, but the rogue bludger slammed hard into Flint's shoulder, nearly knocking him off of his broom before pelting back at Harry, who was already arching back into the air. For the first time, Harry smiled. The bludger could hunt him all it wanted but if he led the damned thing through an obstacle course, it couldn't exactly pick favourites. In saying so, he had to do this sparingly, because he also didn't want to lead it into the path of a teammate.

He pulled the feat off a few more times before Malfoy, to his credit, realized his ploy. Now, every time Harry tried to dive, Malfoy would swerve in front of him. Harry tried once more and yet again he was blocked. He let out a growl of frustration as he began to dodge the bludger again and Malfoy began to taunt him. It was right as Draco made a remark about ballet that Harry saw it. The snitch was hovering just beside Malfoy's ear and the only reason the Slytherin seeker had not snatched it already was because he was too fixated on his rivals death defying dilemma.

With a hard look, Harry shot straight towards Malfoy, something that caused the blonde's eyes to widen comically. Anticipating Harry's plan as weaponizing the bludger against him, Draco dove straight out of the way — and straight away from the snitch. With a wild snatch, Harry had the snitch in hand, but he did not stop. He knew from the timeout that the bludger wouldn't stop for the end of the match and he did not want to endanger anybody else as he was sure Gryffindor house would surge onto the field. As a result, Harry pointed his broom straight upwards and shot skyward, ignoring Lee Jordan's confused commentary as he climbed higher and higher and higher, vanishing completely from the spectators sight as the bludger stayed persistently on his tail.

When the air began to thin and breathing started becoming more taxing than natural, Harry inverted his broom at a terrifying rate and shot vertically towards the ground far, far below him like a suicidal javelin. The bludger was whistling behind him but it could not quite catch the fastest broom in the world as they raced towards the ground at death defying speeds. The crowd gasped as Harry, who had built up so much speed he was nothing more than an indistinguishable blur shot towards the ground. The ground was closing faster than Harry had ever seen it do before and he knew that now, he had to pull this off perfectly.

A bit earlier than he would normally, Harry pulled up as hard as he possibly could while maintaining his grip on the still struggling golden snitch. It turned out his timing was perfect, as his feet skimmed the ground and the bludger just sailed past him. Unlike Harry, the ball could not turn nearly as fast and with a resounding explosion that shook the stadium and threw Harry and his remarkably still intact broom violently through the air, the bludger slammed into the ground. When the moment of weightlessness gave way to a crushing pain and a shortage of breath, Harry knew he had landed hard and when the only arm he could lift was the one containing the golden snitch, he knew he was hurt.

With that being said, it did not diminish the ecstasy he felt as the whole of Gryffindor house poured onto the pitch and when Oliver Wood offered him a hand up, Harry quickly passed his captain the snitch before taking it with his good hand, ignoring his waning vision as his eyes sought out his friends and pseudo family.

* * *

**Author's Endnote:**

**Seeing as the last chapter ended on such a miserable, ominous note, I decided to end this one more positively.**

**I am very nervous for how the Harry/Daphne scene went over. I am partially nervous that I have overdone it, but those who have read it seem to disagree and I think those who better understand Harry's situation will be satisfied with the scene. **

**Also, I did not forget about Lockhart. This variation of Lockhart is not foolish enough to offer to heal Harry when he is incapable of doing so. His character will be fleshed out in time. Finally, Daphne whispered her spell, she did not cast silently.**

**Dobby's back next chapter, so you have that to look forward to xD**

**Please read and review. **

**PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, May 10th at approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	25. LoS Ch 10: Invitations and Interventions

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Instagram aci100ff or by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 10: Invitations and Interventions.**

* * *

**November 7th 1992.**

**The Room of Requirement.**

**11:06 AM.**

After a brief stop in the infirmary to allow Madam Pomfrey to heal his shoulder, Harry led Neville and Augusta up to The Room of Requirement. He couldn't really think of a place more suited for a meeting, least of all when the contents of said meeting were going to get into matters Harry did not feel comfortable discussing in public. When they had entered the room, Augusta had taken several minutes to simply admire its complexities before her, Neville and Harry took seats and began to discuss.

"That was quite the showing." Augusta said, sounding almost smug as she gave Harry a firm nod. "At the same time, I'm not sure whether I should tell you I'm proud of you, or tell you to never do something so foolish again."

Neville laughed and Harry smiled abashedly back at her. "I'd prefer the former." he answered honestly. "I couldn't really think of a better way to deal with the bludger."

Augusta sighed. "Harry, several adults had their wands drawn and would have blasted the wretched ball to pieces as soon as it got in range once the match ended but that's not important. You're fine and that's all that matters." she paused. "Well, that and if you have any ideas who had the gall to enchant a bludger to try and murder you?"

Harry shook his head. "I honestly have no idea." he answered honestly. "There's no Quirrell this year and Lockhart is a lot of things, but I highly doubt a Death Eater is one of them." Neville snorted and tried unsuccessfully to cover it and his laughter up with a cough.

Augusta nodded. "Probably the same devil who sent that Merlin forsaken tart, but none of us have found anything on that either, so I don't suppose that is helpful."

Harry nodded. "That would make sense, I guess. But no, I have no idea who sent that either. Dumbledore ran checks on the parchment for any signatures and there were none."

"Let's not focus on that, then." Augusta said, sounding annoyed that none of them had an answer. Harry could imagine she was; if she found out the identity of the idiot who was dense enough to send a poisoned tart near her… well, Harry may actually wind up pitying the sod after Augusta's inevitable retribution. "You said you had something to discuss with me?" she asked the two boys. "Something you said was better not discussed in letters."

Both boys nodded. "It's better if Harry explains." Neville said. "I've got most of this second hand, except for the attack." At the word "attack" Augusta's eyes narrowed but she showed no reaction beyond that as she peered expectantly at Harry.

"Well, I guess this starts back at The Burrow. In August, a house elf named Dobby popped up in the kitchen when it was just me and Ginny — the youngest Weasley, and told me terrible things were going to happen at Hogwarts. He tried to convince me not to come back at all and Dumbledore even thinks that he was the one who closed the barrier." At the mention of Dumbledore's name, Augusta's posture stiffened, if only marginally. Harry knew there was at least a distrust between them, though he never quite knew why. At least, not beyond the obvious circumstances that surrounded Harry's upbringing, but he had a strong inkling that the situation was deeper than that.

"And you… trust this elf's word?" Augusta asked. It was not an accusation, just a mildly sceptical inquisition.

"Not implicitly." Harry assured her. "He mentioned that he had heard tell of my confrontation with Voldemort at the end of first year though, so he did seem shockingly well informed." Augusta nodded minutely, conceding the point. "Plus, he had to punish himself every time he came too close to revealing something. That seems like a huge ask for even a house elf."

"It is not unreasonable to assume some bigots may have instructed the elf to punish itself to make sure the performance was convincing." Augusta's voice was definitely tinged with an obvious degree of coldness. Harry did not need to ask what Augusta thought of bigots. "But," she continued, "that combined with the bit about the elf knowing more than he should… well, it is suspicious at the very least."

"Kinda creepy, too." Neville put in, with a shake of his head.

"What about this attack though?" Augusta asked after allowing a small smile for her grandson's comment.

"I'm getting there." Harry promised her. "During the first weekend at Hogwarts, I had detention with Lockhart. I… uh, might've attacked Malfoy after he called Dean a mudblood." Contrary to looking upset, Augusta hummed almost approvingly and though Harry did not stumble over his words in surprise, it was a near miss. "At the end of that detention, I heard a voice that Lockhart couldn't hear. It didn't sound human and it wanted to rip, tear and kill." Now, Augusta's attention sharpened even more. "Before the attack, I heard the same voice; this time it was talking about blood and how close it was. Then, the caretaker's cat was petrified and nobody knows how it happened, not even Dumbledore."

"There was writing on the wall, too." Neville put in. "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware."

Augusta pursed her lips. "I admit that I know nothing about the Chamber beyond the standard myths and such. I am assuming the Heir is referring to the Heir of Slytherin, but personally, I think whoever they are is bluffing."

"Really?" Neville asked, surprised.

"Being the Heir of Slytherin isn't something someone would hide, Neville." she snapped, sounding almost annoyed she needed to explain the concept at all. "It would grant them an absurd amount of wealth and power. I doubt they would hold that secret just to go and petrify a cat."

Harry nodded slowly. "That… makes sense, but Dumbledore does think it was some kind of creature that petrified the cat, and, say what you want about him, he's usually pretty on the mark when it comes to magic."

Reluctantly, Augusta nodded. "He is." she conceded. "I'm not telling you to rule anything out, but I am telling you my thoughts."

"What should we do about it?" Neville asked, causing Augusta to blink before glaring at him.

"Do? You will not do anything! There is no sense in rushing head first into dangerous situations that do not concern you. I made an exception last year because it did, in a way, concern you but not this year. Whoever this idiot is will get caught. I dislike Dumbledore on principle, but he will not be outwitted by a student."

Harry and Neville exchanged looks before nodding. Harry knew that both boys were thinking the same thing. There was an odd feeling of impending doom, as if both of them knew they would somehow get dragged into the situation.

* * *

**November 7th 1992.**

**The Gryffindor Common Room.**

**9:23 PM.**

By the time 9:30 drew near, the party going on within Gryffindor Tower had positively surged in intensity. The House took every victory in Quidditch to heart, but that was magnified when it was against Slytherin. On this occasion, even that was amplified by the facts that Slytherin had been on seven of the best brooms on the planet and the fact that a bludger had done its absolute best to murder Gryffindor's star seeker. As a result of the latter event, Harry found himself the shining star and centre point of the galaxy that was the Gryffindor's party. Harry found himself most uncomfortable with this, but he was grateful for his three friends and six Quidditch teammates.

None of them ever let it get out of hand and kept everything around him reasonably controlled. Mind you, some of his protection began to trail off when Oliver Wood started dancing around the common room singing carols around 9:00, clearly drunk out of his mind and having the time of his life. The twins too were a bit tipsy, but in general, the pair of them managed to keep their wits about them.

It was not too long after Oliver Wood's episode that Harry decided he needed a break. As a result, he slunk off to a far corner and simply closed his eyes and cleared his mind of any and all emotion. It was so nice after such a chaotic day. The blissful nothingness that were his thoughts were positively euphoric and privately, Harry doubted muggle science had devised a drug to match it.

When he slowly and deliberately opened his eyes, he was surprised to note that nobody had approached him. Nobody except one person, that was and it was not who he would have expected.

"Parvati?" He asked, surprised.

"Hi, Harry," she greeted and he was surprised that none of her normal over the top bubbly nature filled her words. "It's some party, isn't it?"

Harry paused, not quite sure how to respond to a girl he knew nothing about. "It certainly seems like it." He answered carefully.

Parvati smiled. "I suppose you would know better than me. You've practically been mobbed the whole party." She frowned. "Is that why you were over here? I can leave if you wanted privacy, I just wanted to congratulate you on the match. That was amazing!"

"I just needed a minute." He told her. "You can stay, I guess. I'm probably going to find Neville, Dean and Ron though, and I'm not going to stay up too much longer. I'm beat."

Parvati smiled at him again. "It's ok, Harry. I'll let you get back to your friends, I just wanted to tell you how impressed and proud we all are of you." And then, with a confident wave, Parvati disappeared into the throng of the party, leaving a thoroughly bamboozled Harry Potter to find his friends alone.

* * *

**November 8th 1992.**

**Gryffindor Tower.**

**First Year Boys Dormitory.**

**3:47 AM.**

Harry blearily returned to the land of the living with a soft groan. He did not know what time it was, but it certainly did not feel like his normal hour for waking and his body was fairly adept at staying attuned with that schedule. A second later, he tensed when he felt an odd sort of weight on his chest. Then, when he looked up, Harry bolted upright, sending said weight flying off of him as he scrambled, quickly withdrawing his wand from underneath his pillow and taking aim, a spell on his lips. He had many experiences with being woken up suddenly. As a matter of fact, Harry would consider himself a seasoned veteran in the process but in saying that, most of those occasions had not been pleasant. As a result, a spell was half formed on his lips when it died out as his eyes widened in unmasked shock at the small, wide eyed figure getting up at the foot of his bed.

"Dobby?" he asked in a whisper, quickly casting silencing charms on the hangings around him to assure that no noise of his inevitably odd conversation would reach the ears of his sleeping dorm mates. The one good part about Harry's experiences with being jolted awake were that they lended themselves rather well to being alert quite quickly after waking.

The elf's tennis ball-like eyes, if possible, widened even further. "Harry Potter remembers Dobby?"

Harry winced. "You… uh, aren't going to be easy to forget, Dobby." Harry immediately winced as the creature's large, round eyes brimmed with tears of what Harry assumed to be joy at the statement. The little creature was clearly unstable.

"Dobby is honoured to be remembered by such a great wizard sir!" The elf beamed proudly.

"Uh… right. Dobby, what are you doing here?"

The elf's ears drooped almost comically when Harry asked that question and his head lowered marginally before he answered it. "Dobby is here to warn Harry Potter. To try and get Harry Potter to go home."

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Dobby, let me put it to you this way so you don't get any more ideas. There is NOTHING you can say or do that will make me leave Hogwarts."

Dobby's posture unravelled even more. "Dobby knows that now sir. If Dobby's bludger did not make Harry Potter see reason and go home, Dobby does not think anything will do it sir."

"Hang on?" Harry asked sharply, his wand twitching as the connection formed in his mind. "Your bludger, Dobby?" Harry tried his utmost to keep any anger out of his voice, but he didn't think he was as successful as he'd have liked to be for when he spoke, Dobby flinched back ever so slightly.

"Dobby does not want Harry Potter to be upset, sir. Dobby is only acting in Harry Potter's best interests, sir. Harry Potter is not safe at Hogwarts. It is better if Harry Potter goes home. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened once more just like Dobby warned Harry Potter of in the summer."

"Wait," Harry said, sitting up straighter as his stare upon the eccentric house elf intensified, "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened again? You're telling me that it definitely is the Chamber and that it's been opened before?"

Predictably, Dobby tried to smash his head on the floor once Harry exposed his slip up, but having been prepared for such a possibility, Harry reached forward and took hold of the elf, physically restraining him as he took aim with his wand. "Answer me, Dobby. This is important; it could mean life or death." Harry knew he wouldn't curse the elf, but he hoped the threat would work.

Dobby simply smiled tragically back up at him. "Dobby told you this summer sir, he's used to threats; they do not scare Dobby." and with that parting message and infuriating non answer, Dobby popped away with a resounding CRACK and Harry slumped back into bed with a groan, trying his best to clear his mind of thoughts and emotions as a means of perhaps getting back to sleep.

* * *

**November 8th 1992.**

**The Headmaster's Office**

**9:24 AM.**

To put it simply, Harry had been having a rather miserable day. He could operate on very little sleep, but the night previous, he had scarcely slept at all. It had been much, much later than he'd have liked before Harry managed to finally slip away from the surging crowd that had been his housemates and slunk off to his dorm. Even then, Dobby had interrupted his sleep and once the elf had revealed such startling revelations, Harry found that he could not sleep at all. As if things could not get worse, rumours were running roughshod through the school that yet another attack had taken place, this time on a student. The student in question was apparently Colin Creevey, and seeing as Harry had not seen the boy yet this morning, which to say was a rarity would be a severe understatement, Harry believed it.

It was this belief that led Harry to follow Dumbledore out of the hall upon the conclusion of breakfast and quickly call after him. The man had quirked a brow, but when Harry said he needed to tell him more information about the attacks, the man nodded and allowed Harry to follow him up into his office where the two of them now sat.

Now, sitting across from his Headmaster, Harry realized how tired Dumbledore looked. It did not hold a candle to his appearance over the summer at St. Mungo's but it did not look like he had slept much himself. "Are you alright, Professor?" Harry asked him.

Dumbledore just smiled back at him. "Quite so, Harry, quite so. Merely concerned as to the events of the past number of weeks." With that statement, Dumbledore leant forward. "I understand you have more information to pass along to me? I do not suppose it has anything to do with the rumours sweeping through the school?"

"Not directly," Harry admitted, "but when I heard the rumours, I didn't think it was wise to wait until Friday to talk to you about it."

Dumbledore nodded. "A very mature decision on your part." he commended. "I am very happy you made said decision for between the two of us, at least until the Hogwarts rumour mill has evidence to support its ramblings, I am afraid Mr. Creevy's fate is more than a simple rumour."

Harry's eyes widened. "Will he be ok, sir?"

"In the long term, I do believe he will be perfectly alright." Dumbledore assured him. "His fate, as of now, is the same one experienced by Mrs. Norris. He is physically healthy in every conceivable way, but he has been petrified in much the same way Mrs. Norris was before him."

"And you think nothing but the Mandrake draught will be able to reverse it?"

"There may be other ways," Dumbledore admitted modestly, "but if there are, I do not know of them; nor do the rest of my most marvellous staff." he folded his fingers before speaking again. "But tell me, Harry, what is it you wished to bring to my attention today?"

Harry wasted no time telling Dumbledore about Dobby's appearance and more importantly, what he had said about The Chamber of Secrets. "Do you think it really could be the Chamber, sir?"

Dumbledore studied Harry intensely before responding very carefully. "I will not enforce such things as an oath because I would like to think we have built a level of trust between us." his lips twitched. "And because in reality, oaths in terms of secrecy are not the most desirable method of keeping said secret, but I digress. I will ask, Harry, that what I tell you now is not revealed to any outside of this room."

"Of course, sir."

"Make sure you understand, Harry. That includes Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Thomas and even Lady Augusta."

Harry paused. "Is that really necessary, sir?"

"I certainly believe so." There was a moment in which the two of them stared intently at each other before, after nearly a minute, Harry nodded in acceptance. "Very good, very good. Now, between the two of us, Harry, I have suspected the opening of The Chamber of Secrets since Mrs. Norris's most unfortunate fate."

"You think it exists then?"

"Oh, I am as close to sure of the fact as I can be without verifiable evidence. You see, Harry, this is not the first time in the last century that students have turned up petrified within these very walls." when he saw the look of astonishment on Harry's face he held up a hand to forestall any questions. "I am sure you are wondering how such a thing is not well known. Well, last time, the Heir was not so bold as to write messages on the wall. As such, it was far easier to keep the rumours under control. Some of the more well connected or sharper students pieced it together but with little evidence to speak of, they did not spread it far and wide. As for the teachers, most of us took oaths of secrecy."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You didn't do that, did you sir?"

"No, I did not. Armando Dippet was a great man but if truth be told, his traditions such as oaths had long since been debunked. I told him in no uncertain terms how foolish and meaningless I believed the oath to be and I told him just as surely that I would not be taking said oath." Suddenly, Harry realized the magnitude of that statement. Even as a professor, Dumbledore had commanded enough power for the Headmaster of the age to bow to his wishes.

"And-and the Chamber was opened then?"

"I certainly think so. The Heir, as I have said, did not write messages on the wall, but he did leave rather alluring notes at the scene of each crime. He claimed to be the Heir of Slytherin and he claimed as well to be behind the attacks and that it was he who had found and opened the legendary Chamber of Secrets at long last. The attacks then are startlingly similar to what is taking place now and I find myself sceptical that such a thing is mere coincidence."

"Was the person ever caught?" Harry asked curiously.

Dumbledore shot him a rather piercing look. "On that, I had no choice but to sign a contract dictating I would hold my tongue." he did not sound happy about that. "That was Ministry business and they saw fit to censor me in the future in regards to the matter." he paused. "I think you will find that somebody was caught, but I think you will find certain… inconsistencies in regards to the person versus the offence." he sighed. "I cannot say more than that, I am afraid, and trust me, Harry, when I say I would tell you if I could do so."

"Is it possible that I could find out who did it through other secondary sources?"

Harry swore the twinkle in his eye turned up a notch. "Why Harry, most anything is possible." and that was all he got.

"I don't suppose you ever found out what it was attacking students?"

"Again, officially, the monster was identified." It went without saying that Dumbledore did not agree with said identification.

This time, it was Harry's turn to sigh. Why did his life have to be so complicated? Why couldn't he just enjoy a year at Hogwarts like any other student over the past millennium?

* * *

**November 9th 1992.**

**The Quidditch Pitch.**

**8:03 PM.**

Harry and Ron landed on the pitch and grinned broadly at one another. Tonight, Ron had been set to run seeker drills with Harry and though it had been a rocky start, Harry's friend had greatly improved throughout the practice and both boys found themselves in rather high spirits as the practice concluded.

Seconds after the two second years had landed, two other boys did likewise and suddenly, Fred, George, Harry and Ron were all gazing at each other awkwardly.

There was so much to be said, about the pranks, about how they had gone too far and about the impromptu competition they had made of the feast. Mercifully for Harry, who had no idea how to proceed, the twins broke the silence as they fell to their knees with their hands clasped in front of their chests.

"We concede, oh great master's of pranks!" Fred said dramatically.

"We gave it the best we had, but how are we to match the humiliation of Smellius Snape?" Harry had to stifle laughter behind his hand at that comment and Ron didn't even try.

"Such brilliance!" Fred continued, before the twins mock threw themselves at Harry and Ron's feet.

"WE'RE NOT WORTHY!" they proclaimed as one and just like that, the tension had been broken. There was no need for further questions and at long last, The Great Prank War of 1992 had been concluded and Harry had formed two strong friendships that would last him many years.

* * *

**November 9th 1992.**

**The Room of Requirement.**

**9:32 PM.**

Harry sighed as Neville left him alone in the Room of Requirement. They had come to help Neville practice some offensive spells and after said practice, Harry had filled his best friend in about his conversation with Dobby. He did keep his word to Dumbledore and said nothing about that meeting, but Neville seemed more than satisfied with what he had got. Harry told Neville he could tell the others, but also informed him he would be remaining in the room to study.

Once Neville left, the room itself morphed around him and suddenly, Harry was in his typical study room. Quickly, he withdrew the book on Occlumency from Dumbledore and finally flipped to the page he had found and marked a few days earlier.

_Thought Streams._

_The simplest definition of Occlumency is magical mastery over one's mind. In saying this, such a definition is wide and broad, which is because the art of Occlumency is those two things in spades. Mastery over one's mind means many things, but one of them is the ability to manipulate, extrapolate, and expedite one's thoughts and ability to think._

_One of the more effective ways of doing this is through the creation of Thought Streams. The easiest way to explain a thought stream would simply be to imagine dividing your mind. As of now, you have one thought stream. Your mind focuses on one problem at once, for the most part, because its brain power is vastly undivided. Thought Streams allow a witch or wizard to divide their mind. If you were to create a thought stream, you would be dividing your brain power between two completely different trains of thought. In one thought stream, you could be focusing on spell theory and in the other, you could be focusing on the applications of said theory. This would allow you to more quickly learn the topic at hand. _

_Now, I spoke of dividing brain power but in truth, that is not an overly accurate explanation; simply an image to allow you to understand topics that are frankly beyond us humans. If you create two thought streams, you are not dividing half of your brain power to one and half to the other. Both streams will be operating under the full capacity of your mind, so if you, by example, were obsessively studying one concept, you could create two separate thought streams and dedicate 200% of your thought power to said concept, in theory learning it twice as fast._

_Now, this cannot make you understand something, but it greatly expedite said path to enlightenment._

_As for limitations, it is possible to open more than two thought streams but the more you open, the less effective additional streams become. In addition, multiple thought streams are extremely taxing on the human mind. I often keep two or three open at a time, but I have never dared to go past five and on the brief occasions I have opened a fifth, I found it to be a profoundly unpleasant experience. It is believed that opening more than seven is fundamentally impossible but in truth, I would categorize the act of opening even seven thought streams as positively ludicrous._

Beneath that explanation were several exercises required to prepare one's mind for opening thought streams, and the steps in which one would take to do so once ready. It looked far more complex than anything Harry had attempted thus far, but he was determined to do it. Not only was it bloody useful in general, but he thought this was a ticket to fast tracking his mastery of wordless magic and if he did not achieve such a thing by Christmas, the old codger otherwise known as Mad-Eye-Moody would have his head.

* * *

**November 10th 1992.**

**Gryffindor Tower.**

**The Second Year Boy's Dormitory.**

**6:29 PM.**

Harry had spent much of the last week stewing over a particular problem in his mind. As intelligent as Harry was and for all of his friends' wise cracks about him being the next Merlin, so on and so forth, he was no genius with emotions; far from it, as a matter of fact. As a result, Harry had no idea how to handle such an emotionally charged situation. In light of that, he had finally decided that this morning, he would be taking his first major step towards solving said situation. Unfortunately, taking that step had been more difficult than he had expected, which was made obvious by the piles of discarded parchment around him.

Finally, at nearly half past six, almost an hour and a half after he had started this most taxing endeavour, Harry sighed in relief as finally, at long last, what he hoped was a passable letter to his first true mentor was complete.

_Dear Augusta,_

_I know it hasn't been that long since we last talked, but I really need help with something that's eating at me. _

_A few days before the Quidditch match, Daphne Greengrass, one of my best friends, and I had a sort of confrontation. Long story short, Ron, Dean, Neville and myself were engaged in a prank war against the Weasley twins. We started off pranking each other, but that got out of hand very quickly. Since we didn't want it to escalate too far, we decided to settle it at the feast. We would each plan pranks on the school at large, and whoever's was better would be the winner. _

_We pranked Snape since he's a git and all the rest, but the Weasley twins pranked the whole of Slytherin house, which Daphne is a member of. I think she suspected I was behind it and did not take it well at all. I mean, I don't think being dressed in a leotard would be fun, but still.I don't think she was actually trying to be cruel, I just think she wanted answers or to get revenge, or to make a point, or something… if you can't tell, I have no idea. Anyways, she bound me in ropes when I wasn't paying attention and I sort of panicked and froze. _

_It was just… too many bad memories from before you found me that night and I… sort of had a bit of a breakdown. I don't know what I should do now. I'm upset with Daphne but I don't know if I should be. She didn't know any of that happened so she couldn't have known, but she still tied me up in bloody ropes! I'm mad at her, but it's not like I don't like her anymore… ugh! Emotions are hard, I don't know what I'm saying and this is the fifteenth damn draft but I think you get my point._

_If you could give me any advice, please, please do; I'm lost. I don't know if I should approach her or if I should wait for her to approach me. I don't know what I say when that happens and I just don't know what to do._

_Anyways, I'm really sorry for rambling but this whole thing has stressed me out big time!_

_Oh, and there was another attack, this time on a first year Gryffindor instead of a cat. There's a lot going on here that I can't tell you, but I hope things are more peaceful on your end. _

_I can't wait to see you again at Christmas,_

_Harry._

Harry sighed again, this time in exasperation. It was far from the best letter he had ever sent her and frankly, it was probably the least eloquent, but he thought it would suffice. Rolling up the parchment, Harry slowly got to his feet, but he was jump scared a second later when a voice spoke up from behind him.

"What are you doing awake at this time, Harry?"

Harry whirled around and had to fight very, very hard against the impulse to draw his wand. Standing before him with a questioning expression on her rather attractive features was Parvati Patil.

"Oh, hey Parvati. I guess you could say I'm a morning person. I always tend to get up this early."

Parvati sniffed. "That sounds awful." she told him as she made a face.

Harry smiled amusedly back at her. "You're as bad as Ron." he told her with a roll of his eyes.

She pouted. "Don't compare a fine lady to Weasley! Have you seen his table manners?"

Harry snorted. "I didn't mean it like that, but yeah, I have." A year ago, if a girl had responded like that to him, he'd have stuttered his way through the rest of the conversation. Daphne had taught him the art of teasing fairly well, so he could now usually keep his composure when somebody decided that teasing was in the cards.

Parvati rolled her eyes, not dignifying his comment with a reply.

"Why are you up at this time?" Harry returned her original question with genuine curiosity. "I don't think I've seen you awake this early before."

Parvati wrinkled her nose. "Of course you haven't! Sorry Harry, but no sane person is awake at this hour by choice. I just couldn't sleep, that's all."

"Ah," Harry nodded, "fair enough, and between the two of us, I don't disagree with you."

Parvati giggled before asking a question in return. "Are you going somewhere?"

Harry shrugged. "The owlery and then out to the grounds."

Parvati gaped at him. "The grounds? What on earth would anybody want to do out on the grounds at this time of day?"

Harry hesitated. "That's a secret." he answered cryptically.

Parvati just rolled her eyes again. "Or I could just — Jeez, I don't know — follow you out onto the grounds and find out." Harry winced, realizing he had painted himself in a bit of a corner. That was the problem with being The-Boy-Who-Lived and all the rest. He was the perpetual centerpoint of everyone's interest and attention at Hogwarts. If word got out that Harry worked out on the grounds every morning at the crack of dawn, he had no doubt, as ludicrous as the thought may be, that he would have a crowd of people watching him from now on.

For so many reasons both practical and personal, that would not do.

"If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anybody? Not even Lavender?"

Parvati beamed at him. "Of course," she told him with a wide smile, "I wouldn't dare share your secrets!"

Harry sighed. "I workout on the grounds each morning. I'm trying to improve at combat magic and a large part of that is physical fitness. The routine is absolutely mental, but I'm getting the hang of it and I don't feel like I've been in a wreck every morning at this point."

Parvati was gaping like a fish again. "That sounds awful!" she told him, clearly mortified.

Harry shrugged. "It was at first, but it's gotten much easier as time's gone on."

Parvati rolled her eyes. "Well, I was going to ask you if you wanted company but frankly, there is no way I'm going outside right now!"

Harry laughed. "I don't blame you. As a matter of fact, I envy you." Then, with one last wave exchanged between the two yearmates, Harry turned on his heel and marched out of Gryffindor Tower to begin yet another day.

* * *

**November 13th 1992.**

**The Headmaster's Office.**

**7:00 PM.**

"Ah, Harry, punctual as ever; I do admire that about you, I must confess." Dumbledore greeted his young pupil as Harry entered his office for their weekly lesson in Occlumency.

Harry smiled; it was still nice being praised by Dumbledore of all people. "Thank you, sir. Will we be getting back to it then?"

"Not quite," Dumbledore told him with a smile, "I did tell you during one of your last meetings that at the turn of the month, you may be ready to progress onto the next stage of Occlumency." Harry's heart leapt. "Well, I have had much on my mind as of late, as I'm sure you have as well, so I delayed the process by about two weeks, for which, I do apologize. Nevertheless, I believe it is time for you to progress to the next level of Active Occlumency."

Harry's attention had been caught. "What is that step, sir?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "You are as eager of a student as I could have ever hoped for. Thus far, I have taught you the most rudimentary method to break the connection established when a Legilimens seeks to infiltrate another's thoughts." Harry nodded; quite obviously, he knew this already. "Well, frankly, breaking said connection is not always enough. For a variety of reasons, this is sometimes not possible. To simplify matters, I will simply say this most often happens when a Legilimens gains a certain amount of proficiency with being subtle in their investigations. Thus far, I have attacked your mind with the most blunt means I know of outside of pointing my wand at your forehead and screaming the incantation for the gods to hear. Now, I will be doing so with more subtlety. You will not be trying to break the connection. Instead, you will keep your image strong but this time, I would like you to focus on your magic if you can. Think of the sensation that spreads through your body when you cast a spell. Focus on that sensation and pull it to the forefront of your imagination. Will yourself to control it and then drape said magic around your image. You are to cloak your image in raw magic. This is how you form rudimentary Occlumency shields and that is the next step of your progression.

"I do not anticipate that I will be attacking your mind tonight. On this wonderful evening, you will simply be gaining the feel for this process and I will be here to assist the best I can and answer any questions along the way." Harry nodded; it sounded difficult, but not complex, per se.

It turned out that it was even more difficult than it sounded. By the time the lesson had concluded, Harry had only made small progress with the process. Part of him was exasperated, even annoyed with himself but a large part of him was prepared for this challenge. At the same time, he thought his quest to cast silently was difficult enough at the moment, but that was another matter altogether.

"Do not be discouraged." Dumbledore told him at the end of the meeting. "The progress you have made is excellent even though it will not seem so. This process will take months, Harry. Building rudimentary shields is the lengthiest process within the teaching of Occlumency, but I have no doubt you will get there quickly enough."

He smiled. "The level of mastery you have over magic at your age is remarkable Harry, and I am not the only one who has taken notice." His eyes sparkled as he opened a drawer on his desk and withdrew a rather immaculate looking envelope before handing it over to Harry. "Read this over and please consider it carefully. I do not expect, nor do I want an answer tonight. I wish for you to discuss this with Lady Augusta and anyone else you trust. I will be attending this event and I have done so annually for many years. Therefore, as well as bringing you to and from said event, I would also be pleased to answer any and all questions you may have if you trust me in such matters." There was a certain sadness in Dumbledore's voice as he trailed off that reminded both occupants of the room of Dumbledore's sins in the past.

Carefully and with a great deal of curiosity Harry opened the envelope, withdrew the letter and began to read. By the time he had finished, his jaw was agape.

_Dear Harry Potter,_

_I have known Albus for many, many years and he has not gushed so openly about a student during any of them. _

_With this fact in mind, combined with your expedition at the end of your first year to save what you then believed to be ma Pierre Philosophale, me and my wife Perenelle are happy to extend a hopeful invitation to you. _

_We take pride in inviting you to our annual Christmas Eve Gala held at my family estate. Many of the top politicians, theorists, athletes and witches and wizards from all other walks of life will inevitably be attending as always and it seems you are on your way to being among them._

_Please respond personally or through Albus by December 1st. _

_We eagerly await your reply,_

_Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel. _

* * *

**Author's Endnote:**

**How's that for a bang to end a chapter?**

**I know the last few chapters have been very heavy on Dumbledore, but he is quite important to the story. Also, this is a bit of a transition phase in terms of major plot points.**

**Please read and review.**

**PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, May 17th 2020.**


	26. LOS Ch 11: Apologies and Admissions

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Instagram aci100ff or by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 11: ****Apologies and Admissions.**

* * *

**November 15th 1992.**

**The Great Hall. **

**8:23 AM.**

_Harry,_

_I find it astounding how a young man as brilliant as yourself can be so hopeless sometimes. _

_Firstly, if you still have a feeling of connection for this Greengrass, then she has clearly been a good friend to you in the past. As you alluded to in your letter, there is no way she could have known about your upbringing. You have adapted extremely well and it is very rare that it is truly noticeable. If she has made such a meaningful impact on you that you still feel a connection after an event like that, then you would be a fool to force her out because of one mistake. Personally, I think a young lady is perfectly within her right to tie a young man up and more for dressing them in a leotard in front of the entire school but in your case, I can see why that would be problematic._

_You should definitely approach her. The fact that this happened over a week ago and she has not come to you is a fantastic sign. It means that she is likely remorseful and it means she cares enough to have observed you to a degree that she understands waiting for you is the better option. You should approach her when you are ready but don't leave it too long! The girl probably feels terrible and you're only dragging it on by waiting._

_As for how you should deal with it, it is simple — be honest. I know that is difficult for you given your upbringing and you don't need to go into details, but be honest. Explain to her why that bothered you, at least in a vague sense. It will help her to understand that it was not an overreaction on your part but at the same time, she will realize she could have never known so she hopefully won't be overly guilty about it to the point that it keeps her up at night._

_It is most worrying that a student has been attacked. Please keep me up to date on this and do not dare neglect to share information like you did last year. I cannot be helpful if you are hiding things from me. I am only trying to do the best for you and Neville._

_Oh, and let me know if they find out who charmed that bludger please._

_I hope you enjoy the coming weeks before Christmas and I am excited to see you again as well._

_All the best,_

_Augusta_

Harry read over the letter from Augusta with a deep frown of concentration. When he read her recommendation regarding how best to handle the Daphne situation, he felt his heart rate increase marginally as butterflies flitted in and out of his stomach. Frankly, that was not a conversation he was remotely ready to have. But then again, he had not been remotely ready to face Quirrell down in the catacombs last June and for all the dread it brought him, Augusta's points in favour of the idea were very, very difficult to argue with. There was also the fact that when it came to emotions, Harry was about as clueless as one could get. He would realistically trust most any decent person's plan over his in situations like the one he had found himself in at present.

"What'd Gran write to you for?" Neville asked curiously. "Usually, she'll write both of us unless it's specific."

Harry pursed his lips. "I shouldn't say." He answered. "It's nothing bad," he reassured his friend, "it's just a personal thing that's honestly not that big of a deal." It was true. To Harry, his friendship with Daphne was something precious. They were not the closest of friends, per se, but friendship was something he cherished after so many years without it. Plus, their relationship brought something that none of his others did. He enjoyed his conversations with Daphne in ways different to his other friends. By example. He knew from his lessons with Augusta that a friendship with Daphne, the Heiress to possibly the most powerful active House in Magical Britain was extremely beneficial politically. Truthfully though, Harry had not even considered the political ramifications. He just wanted his friend back, and there was no reason to complicate it beyond that.

Neville frowned but he did not ask questions. Harry was more secretive than he'd like, but he also understood that most of the time, he had good reasons for not telling him things and if the matter concerned him, he was sure his gran would have written to him as well.

Reaching into his bag, Harry slid out a piece of parchment and put his quill to it quickly. First making sure that nobody was attempting to read his draft over his shoulder, Harry began to write a letter that, in the grand scheme of things, was likely one of the more important ones he had ever penned to Augusta.

_Augusta,_

_Thanks for your advice with Daphne. Honestly, I really don't want to admit that you're right, because that will be a positively dreadful conversation, but I know, just like most every other time, you probably are. I'll tell you how it goes when I do it; I'm going to do it this week. Best to get it over with, like you said._

_I'm actually writing to you for another reason though. Dumbledore passed along an invitation for me. I don't think it's extended to you and Neville, but I could double check on that front. It is an invitation from Nicholas Flamel to attend his annual Gala held every Christmas Eve at his family home in France. Dumbledore always attends and has offered to take me there and back. I know you're not fond of Dumbledore, but he's honestly been super helpful this year. He's helped me with several academic projects and has even shed some light on the attacks, even though he did make me promise not to tell anybody about what he said._

_What should I do about this invitation? _

_I have to respond by December 1st, but I'd like the input of people who know way more than me when it comes to politics and networking and all the rest._

_Hope you enjoy the coming weeks too and like I said last letter, I can't wait to see you at Christmas._

_Take care,_

_Harry._

"Must be more important than he's letting on," Ron said mockingly as he gently elbowed Neville, "he wrote a response right away."

Harry made a face at him. "That's not about what she sent me, dimwit, that's about something different."

"Watch who you're calling dimwit!" Ron bit back. "I know I'm not brilliant, but you've been helping me loads this year and you've said yourself I've gotten loads better."

It was true. To Ron's credit, his words at the end of last year in regards to his desire to improve academically and magically had not been spoken in vain. All three of Harry's friends had been spending quite a lot of time with him practicing and grilling their fourth member for information. It was clear to Harry that Ron had been putting in a titanic effort both in and outside of that time in particular. His work had grown in leaps and bounds and Harry thought he was quickly becoming one of the better students in their year at Charms. His wand, though not in a state at all similar to Neville's dad's from the year previous, did act up from time to time though. It was apparently Charlie's old wand and Harry did not need to ask Ron to know that it needed replacing. That was yet another thing to add to his to-do list; convince Ron's parents to let him pay for a new wand for his friend. Maybe they'd allow it as a Christmas present? Harry wasn't sure, but he knew who his next letter would be sent off to. It was clear to him that in spite of his somewhat rough exterior in some regards, Ron had heaps of potential. Due to Harry's difficult upbringing, the thought of his best mate, or anyone else for that matter, failing to reach their potential simply because of financial shortcomings left a positively vile taste in his mouth.

"Yeah, you have." He told Ron with a fond smile. "But until you catch up with me, I think I'll stick with dimwit, thank you very much."

Ron sighed. "Well, I'll just keep calling you a git until you can beat me at chess, so I guess we're even." This set all four of them into fits of laughter and Harry reflected that this was the perfect way to start a Sunday at Hogwarts.

* * *

**November 16th 1992.**

**The Potions Classroom.**

**10:30 AM.**

Snape, as had been the case since the Halloween feast, had been an absolute nightmare in Potions. As Harry had suspected, the bat suspected him wholeheartedly even if he had absolutely no evidence to support his theory. Of course, he was completely correct in his assumption, but that was in no way, shape or form the point.

Harry sighed with relief when he, Ron, Dean and Neville exited the classroom, only to tense in anticipation seconds later and tune out Ron's remark when he saw the taller blonde walking in front of them, accompanied by her much shorter companion. Harry hastened his pace as discreetly as possible and as he passed by Daphne, he did his best to shove the pre-written note into her hand. It was much more clumsy than when she and Tracey had pulled it off, but her delicate fingers closed around the note quickly enough and for the briefest of instances, her sapphire blue eyes flashed towards him with something akin to hope. Harry gave nothing away; she would find out more than he was comfortable with on Wednesday, so there was no need to reveal anything just yet.

* * *

**November 16th 1992.**

**The Charms Classroom.**

**7:24 PM.**

As was their standard practice nowadays, Flitwick had Harry run through several drills on footwork, dodging and accuracy before he got to the contents of the night's lesson. As it turned out, to Harry's delight, they would apparently be covering a new spell.

"This may be the most ambitious tool I have tried to help you add to your repertoire." Flitwick told Harry honestly. "I would never think of showing it to most third years, let alone second years. You've proven to be able to cast magic that I'd thought well, well above your grade level in the past though, so I have faith that you will be able to manage what I have ready for you tonight."

"What's the spell, Professor?"

"The spell, Mr. Potter, is the banishing hex." Flitwick smiled when he saw the widening of Harry's eyes. "Oh, you've heard of it?"

"I've read about it, sir." Harry answered honestly. "It's actually been on my list of spells I'd like to learn for awhile but I've been… distracted with other academic pursuits." Flitwick looked mildly curious at that proclamation but he did not press Harry. That was something he liked a great deal about the Charms Master of Hogwarts. He was the personification of professionalism and he never let that waver, not even for an instant.

"So, can you tell me anything about the charm then?" Flitwick asked.

Harry nodded. "It banishes something away from you, as the name implies. The book mentioned that this is one of the first charms that truly focuses on will power and visualization in a manner similar to Transfiguration. The wand movement is a sweep of one's wand away from themselves and the incantation is Depulso."

Flitwick positively beamed at his pupil. "Excellent, Mr. Potter, excellent indeed! Perfectly correct on all counts. You must visualize the intended result of the charm much like you would for a transfiguration. The only thing you truly neglected to mention is that it is possible to banish items of a vast scale, but to do so would require the overcharging of the spell." Flitwick waved his wand and a large, fluffy pile of white pillows materialized themselves in front of Harry. "For now, you will practice with these. " He told him, indicating the pillows at his feet. With another flick of his wand, baskets had been conjured on the far wall. "Just focus on getting the spell to work for now. Once you manage that, we will work on control, accuracy and efficiency. All of those things will take time no matter how prodigious you may be, so let us start with the basics."

Harry managed to get the charm down rather quickly, at least in terms of getting it to work. As Flitwick had hinted though, controlling the spell was much more difficult. By the end of their session, Harry could cast the spell every time, but his level of control was rather poor and he still needed to over exaggerate the wand motion. By the time Christmas rolled around, Flitwick wanted a minuscule wand movement and maximum control, though he set Harry to achieve these on his own for the most part. He would check in each lesson, but he wanted to teach Harry other spells and advance his knowledge on other things. It was no good to spend so much valuable time on one spell, was Flitwick's philosophy. Harry was not going to complain. He needed to improve and if in the very well-educated opinion of Professor Flitwick this was the best way to do it, then so be it.

* * *

**November 18th 1992.**

**The Great Hall.**

**8:11 AM.**

As the flood of owls poured into The Great Hall that Wednesday morning, Harry was already filled with nerves for what was to come later that day. When he saw Hedwig making her way down towards the Gryffindor table with what was likely Augusta's reply clamped between her talons, Harry honestly wasn't sure whether that eased or intensified the multitude of butterflies that had taken refuge in his stomach.

When Hedwig landed, Harry fed her a piece of bacon rather distractedly before removing the letter from Augusta and giving it a read.

_Harry,_

_Frankly, if not for your stunt at the end of last year, I would be extremely suspicious. Flamel is apparently beyond selective with whom he invites to his galas conventions. Very, very few from England ever have the honour of attending. I do not believe our Minister has been invited since Millicent Bagnold lost the position, by example. With that being said, Flamel did take an interest in Dumbledore at an early age, so I imagine another up and coming prodigy has piqued the old man's interest. In addition, I'm sure you trying to save his beloved stone even though it was never truly in danger endeared you to him further._

_I know very little about Nicholas Flamel beyond what the world knows as a whole. If your chat with Ms. Greengrass goes well, you may be able to ask her. I do not believe the Greengrasses typically attend, but they have dealt with Flamel in the past in potions dealings and such, I am sure, so they may have a more accurate idea._

_Even in saying that, it would be foolish to turn down such an invitation. Ask your friend what she knows when you are on good terms once more but don't have her ask her parents to make inquiries; they can be tracked. If she can give you more information, all the better, if not, oh well. Regardless, I expect you to have a letter of acceptance drafted and sent off by the start of next week. You will send me the draft for approval before it is sent off to the Flamels._

_Again, you would be a fool to turn down such an invitation._

_Please write to me in regards to the outcome of your chat with Ms. Greengrass._

_You'll do fine,_

_Augusta_

Harry quirked his eyebrow. He knew Flamel was a big deal, but he would have to read up on the man. He had never heard Augusta speak so in favour of anything before.

* * *

**November 18th 1992.**

**An Abandoned Classroom.**

**8:02 PM.**

For the first time ever, Harry showed up two minutes late to his meeting with Daphne. He wasn't even sure why he did it, but it just felt like the right thing to do. When he entered their usual meeting place, Daphne was waiting for him, pacing back and forth with her hands clasped in front of her chest. When she heard the sound of the door closing, she paused, turning slowly to face him as her sapphire eyes sought him out. "Harry?"

"Daphne." He answered, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

There was a long, tense pause before Daphne mustered up the courage to speak. "Are you… upset with me?"

Harry pondered the question; he wanted to assure that it was answered honestly. "Not really," he answered truthfully, "I'm upset that you would just attack me to be honest, but I'm guessing you thought that I was behind the leotards, so it's not actually that harsh if you just look at it that way."

Daphne's eyes widened. "Are you telling me you weren't responsible for that atrocity?" Her voice was measured, but Harry could tell she did not believe him even if she was keeping her voice level.

"Mostly," he sighed. At least now, he was confident she would not attack him after how that had ended last time. "None of my friends nor me were directly responsible for the leotards." He winced. "I… uh, say directly because we were sort of in a competition with the Weasley twins. Long story short, we started pranking each other because of something that happened at the welcoming feast; that's why Peeves flew into the potions class that one day. Anyways, that escalated way further than any of us meant for it to, so we decided on no more pranks against each other. The way we would end it was by each pulling a prank at the feast; one by the twins and one by me, Ron, Dean and Neville as a group." Harry winced again. "So, I guess I am sort of responsible for that, but I promise I had no idea what the prank was that the twins were going for. They didn't know ours either, it was sort of the point."

Again, a long pause before Daphne answered. "I believe you," she sighed, sounding almost regretful, "I'm still mildly upset that you didn't warn me about that because honestly, once you were off their list of targets, I'd have thought it obvious the terrors would go for Slytherin House." Harry had to suppress a smile at her nickname for the twins; it was apt, but rather amusing. He did not think smiling would be the best thing to do right now though, so he resisted the urge and nodded.

"Fair enough," he told her, "I'm forgiven, then?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "That might be the most Slytherin thing you've ever done and you don't even realize you've done it."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"You asked me to forgive you when you have the obvious moral high ground and you asked me before addressing the elephant in the room. I can't really say no without looking like a terrible person. You've effectively trapped me without even realizing you've done so."

Harry blinked. "I… uh, didn't really mean it like that."

"I know you didn't," Daphne said with another roll of her eyes, "it's equal parts impressive and infuriating." She sighed. "But yes, I forgive you. But in the future, I expect warning if you know the terrors or yourselves are going to pull anything like that off again."

Harry grinned in spite of his nerves; he couldn't help it. "Got it." He told her, suddenly noticing how his pulse quickened as the tension in the room thickened considerably. He had no idea how to broach the subject of the "elephant in the room" as Daphne had called it. Thankfully, he did not have to, as Daphne seemed to pick up on this and decided to gently guide the conversation in that general direction.

"I'm sorry, Harry. There really isn't any other way for me to say it. I'm not going to pretend that I know you overly well or anything, but I saw the way you reacted to even dancing at the ball last year. I should have known that a spell like that wasn't the best of ideas."

Harry could tell that Daphne had been considering if not practicing those exact words for some time. If he were being honest, he was grateful for the fact. They were genuine, he could tell that from the look in her eyes and honestly, if she stuttered over an apology, it would make this whole thing a lot harder.

Harry sighed. "I get it," he told her, "for most people, you would've just hit them with the spell until they answered your questions. It would have been a fair way to get your revenge seeing as you thought they were responsible for embarrassing you in public." He paused, trying to collect himself in an effort to not suddenly morph into a stuttering mess the likes of which Quirrell would be proud of. "There was no way you could have known, I understand that. You can say you saw me at the ball all you want, but you could never have guessed half of what led to that reaction." He paused once more, taking a deep breath and using Occlumency to keep his mind under control. "From what you just said, I'm taking it you've put the pieces together?"

Daphne bit her lip. "I… think so." Her voice was quiet. It did not shake, but it didn't sound like it was far off either. "I don't know the specifics but… I would guess you didn't have the best childhood."

Harry appraised her for a moment before slowly nodding. "I am not getting into vivid details." He told her. "I'm sorry, but just no." She nodded her understanding. "Let's just say that I am very, very lucky that I landed with the Longbottom family when I did." Daphne's eyes widened at that. Harry Potter's location was a tightly kept secret when not at Hogwarts. "They've treated me like a member of the family since the day I met them and I can't be more grateful than I am, especially after what came before it." He took another pause, this time fending off some rather unpleasant memories. In particular, the ones that took place following the catastrophe that had been the London Zoo.

"What came before?" Daphne prompted gently. She was not prodding, but she was also rather adept at reading people in conversation. She could tell Harry wanted to go on, so she pushed him ever so slightly in that general direction.

He nodded, shaking his head slowly as if to clear it. "I... didn't meet the Longbottoms until I was almost eleven." Daphne did not gasp, but judging by the rare widening of her brilliant blue eyes, it had been a near miss. "For the nine and a bit years between Halloween 1981 and the day I met Neville and his grandmother, I lived with muggles. My mother's sister and her family, to be exact." He specified when Daphne had looked shocked. He grimaced. "Have you ever heard the expression, humans fear what they do not understand?" Daphne nodded. "That could very easily be applied to my uncle when it comes to magic." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice as Daphne inhaled sharply, he really did. He did not think he was overly successful, but he had made the effort.

"Did they…" Daphne cut herself off with a shake of her head. "Sorry," she said meekly, "that's not my-"

"It's alright." Harry said darkly. "Given why we're having this conversation, it was bound to come up at some point. Did they hurt me? Did they physically attack me? Did they try to stamp the magic out of me? Yes, all of the above and more than that as well." His voice was no longer bitter as Daphne reared back as if struck. Instead, it was merely hollow and devoid of any and all emotion whatsoever. "My aunt was rarely involved; it was usually my bastard of an uncle." He winced. "I got my hands on a journal of my mother's this summer from my trust vault and from what I can tell, my aunt never feared magic, but she was terribly jealous of my mother for having it when she didn't." Daphne nodded, slowly, almost nervously. "She was never involved, I think she was too guilty. But she also never made any attempts to stop it.

"Between the two of us, I'd really rather not be saying any of this right now, but honestly, me and the person I asked for advice on this think it's probably necessary." He met Daphne's eyes for the first time during their conversation and Daphne shivered. The look in his eyes was almost unhinged. It was unmistakably vulnerable but at the same time, there was a fiery determination and passion there as well. "There is nothing I hate more than being helpless." He told her bluntly, almost wincing as she recoiled. "I have never met a Boggart but if I did, I would bet a hefty sum of galleons it would somehow take the form of me, helpless, powerless and vulnerable." He broke eye contact. "You can imagine how I felt when hit from behind with a curse that wouldn't let me move a muscle to defend myself. I… kind of panicked."

The silence that followed his words was longer than any thus far and for several scarce moments, Harry thought it would stretch on forever. He was rather proud of his composure during that explanation. Occlumency had been a huge help, as had the hours he had spent over the past number of days rehearsing much of that speech over and over again in his mind. There was a dam building within him that wanted so badly to shatter, but he did not allow it.

Harry came back to reality when he felt a presence nearby. Slowly, he peered at Daphne, who was now standing directly in front of him, looking a bit downwards as to meet his eyes. There was a searching look there, as if asking for permission to do something. Harry only realized what it was when she tentatively mimed the opening of her arms. After a hesitation and a moment for him to muster up some of that courage his House was renowned for, Harry nodded slowly, allowing Daphne to step forward and wrap her arms around him tightly. Harry took several seconds to control his emotions and assure himself all was well before he allowed his control to slip marginally. He let his head fall onto Daphne's shoulder as he slowly, hesitantly wrapped his arms around her in return. Only when his face was hidden did he allow emotion to show. He did not cry, but he did allow several long, shaky breaths to escape him. They spent about a minute in that position before slowly, Harry stepped back and pulled his emotions back under control.

"I'm sorry," Daphne repeated, and her eyes shone with the truth of her statement.

Harry shrugged. "You couldn't have known." Then, he allowed a small, hesitant smile to cross his lips. "Hey, you've been calling me Harry this whole time!"

Daphne stiffened. "I most certainly have not." She fired back.

He smirked. "Well then, Greengrass, I know one way you can make all of this up to me."

Daphne paused, eyes narrowing. "And how would that be?"

"For the love of Merlin, call me Harry." And just like that, the tension had been broken as both of them began to laugh even before Daphne inevitably agreed at long last.

* * *

**November 19th 1992.**

**The DADA Classroom.**

**2:20 PM.**

Gilderoy Lockhart sighed as the members of the last period's class made their exit. He was relieved with the conclusion of every lesson. He really wasn't cut out for teaching, but he had hoped something would happen at Hogwarts this year that may be warranted another best seller. Frankly, this business with the attacks had potential, but it did not seem that anyone was close to solving the mystery. When Lockhart heard somebody shuffling in front of him, his baby blue eyes snapped up and locked upon the girl in question. She was a favourite of his. She was positively brilliant and he barely had to teach the class. Just ask questions and let her answer for him. And her wand work… she would be something else in a few years. Something worth looking into for certain — investing in, even.

"Ah, Ms. Weasley, what can I do for you, my dear?" Ginny hesitated, blushing under her professor's gaze. Lockhart chuckled. "There is no need to be nervous, my dear. I am here to help."

Ginny took a deep breath before speaking, not even daring to open her eyes. "I was w-w-wondering, Professor, what you knew about advanced potions?"

Lockhart paused, his brain reeling for an explanation but coming up empty. "I know a great deal, of course," he lied easily, "what is it you're looking for, Ms. Weasley?"

The girl looked even more nervous now. "Well s-s-sir, I was w-w-wondering what you know about P-P-Polyjuice Potion?"

Lockhart froze. He knew nothing about how to make it, but every one knew about Polyjuice Potion regardless of their ability within the field. "I'm afraid I've never brewed it, Ms. Weasley." He told her. "I know of it, of course, but you should really consult a book or perhaps Professor Snape."

She shrank back from him. "He wouldn't answer me s-s-sir, and no book I've found has the answers either; I think they're all in The Restricted Section."

And then it clicked; the perfect way to get in the good graces of somebody who could be great in the world in a few, short years. "Why, Ms. Weasley, you only ever needed to ask me for a permission slip!" He said brightly, scrambling back to his desk to quickly write one out with his eagle feather quill. He did like signing autographs. Or signing anything, for that matter. He didn't know why, but it always gave him a rather intense form of pleasure. For a nanosecond, he internalized how foolish and irresponsible this was, but the girl truly was brilliant and earning a place in her good books… Yes, it would all work out.

"Here you are, Ms. Weasley." He told her a moment later, handing her the slip before pausing. "I would be… profoundly grateful if you did not share how you got this with anybody. It would be very frowned upon for me to give you this based on your age, but I have seen what you are capable of. I expect great things from you, Ms. Weasley, and I will do anything needed to help you on your way."

Ginny smiled a wide, charming smile as she took the slip. "Thank you, Professor." She said, beaming for a few seconds longer before exiting the room. Only when she had exited did a small, cruel, satisfied smirk adorn her features.

* * *

**The Night Previous.**

**The Library.**

**8:34 PM.**

Hermione let out a hiss of frustration just as her and Ginny finished their respective books in unison. "There's nothing!" Hermione hissed angrily. "There are no leads about any potential Heirs to Slytherin anytime after the 1920's. This is absurd!"

Ginny nodded and smiled apathetically back at her friend. "We could always try and find out in other ways, you know?"

Hermione paused, a look of interest spreading across her face. "Oh, did you have any ideas?"

"Well," Ginny said in a slow, measured voice, "it's probably safe to assume the person is a Slytherin." Hermione nodded; she was not one for bigotry but the hat had granted her choice of Gryffindor. With that in mind, it was reasonable to believe it would do the same for others and she imagined an Heir of Slytherin would argue intensely for the house of their ancestor. "Well, this might be a bit extreme, but have you ever heard of Polyjuice Potion?"

* * *

**November 20th 1992.**

**The Headmaster's Office.**

**9:12 PM.**

Harry slumped in his chair as he concluded yet another Occlumency lesson with Dumbledore. He did not hold that posture for long. Instead, he straightened up quickly and met Dumbledore's gaze once more. "Sir, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about the invitation and possibly Nicholas Flamel?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I had suspected the topic may arise. I will of course refrain from answering anything about Nicholas that I view as being too personal, but aside from that, I shall answer your questions."

"I was told he took an interest in you at a very young age. If it's not too personal, sir, is that true?"

Dumbledore nodded again. "It is indeed, but I was most certainly older than twelve. It was the summer after my O.W.L exams when Nicholas first contacted me. He was rather enthralled by the reports on my Transfiguration exam and we have kept in touch for nearly a century since."

"Did he tutor you or anything?"

"He did indeed. If you will forgive my lack of modesty, Harry, I have built up quite a legend over the years through my numerous accolades and accomplishments." He shared an almost conspiratorial smile with Harry. "Between the two of us, the legend of Albus Dumbledore does not exist without the help of Nicholas Flamel."

"Do you think that's why he's interested in me, sir?"

"Because you are yet another young prodigy, you mean?" Harry nodded. "Partially, yes, but there is much more to it than that, I believe. I believe Nicholas finds it most interesting that I have decided to take you on as what his eyes is an apprentice. And yes, I have told him about our lessons in Occlumency. Trust me when I tell you that I would trust Nicholas with my life. He shall never reveal the secret to anyone." Harry could accept that. "There is also the matter of his Philosopher's Stone. Of course, now you know it was never truly in danger, but I do believe the tale of a young Harry Potter, the very same boy who had already bested Lord Voldemort once before chasing after the same man ten years later to save Nicholas's most prized possession piqued his interest." Dumbledore frowned. "There are other, more personal reasons he is interested in you, but I shall not reveal them. I will tell you this, however. I promise you with the utmost sincerity that none of them even dwell within the realm of being sinister. Nicholas is a better man than I and his intentions are noble and pure."

Harry nodded again, mulling all of that over in his mind as he tried to mentally draft his letters to both Augusta and Flamel. It appeared as though his life had just become a lot more interesting.

* * *

**Author's Endnote:**

**A rather emotional chapter, huh?**

**That Daphne scene took me ages to write but oh well, we got there in the end.**

**All of the stuff with Ginny, Hermione and Lockhart will make perfect sense by the end of the year, just have patience.**

**An additional shoutout to Discord user Luq707 for his additional edits on this chapter.**

**Please read and review.**

**PS: The next chapter will be posted on Sunday, May 24th 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	27. LOS Ch 12: Duels and Dilemmas

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

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**my profile to get even more out of my written works.**

**Author's Note:**

**This is technically out a few hours late, but oh well. I had things to do this afternoon so I had to post it now. Don't worry this won't become the norm.**

* * *

**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 12: Duels and Dilemmas.**

* * *

**November 21st 1992.**

**The Owlery.**

**8:11 AM.**

As was typical, Harry had risen bright and early the day after his discussion with Dumbledore to ensure that he completed Moody's psychopathic workout regiment. As much as he still thought Mad-Eye was a sadist, a belief he thought he'd likely hold until the end of time, Harry was beginning to appreciate the work he was putting in. By now, the regiment, while still gruelling, was no longer the unassailable challenge it had been when he had first begun. He was still sore after some sessions, particularly the morning after a rather rough Quidditch match. Still, he got through it now for the most part without too much pain and the results were noticeable. For one thing, he had peaked in the mirror this morning and for the first time in his life, he could see the formation of defined abdominal muscles. Harry had always been very thin, but he hadn't truly had enough defined muscle to have abs. He was far from achieving a six pack or any such look, but Harry could certainly see the difference in his overall muscle definition, and not just in his abdominal region either. He also just generally felt better. Actions were less tiring and took less effort. It was obvious to him that he was becoming stronger and as much as he hated to admit it, he was grateful to Mad-Eye for it — he really was.

After he had completed that regime, Harry had spent some time in The Room of Requirement reading his mother's journal. He had put quite a bit of time into the journal so far this year. He had gotten through her first year at Hogwarts and was now well into her second. During her first year, she had taken a liking to Professor Flitwick, Slughorn and McGonagall and she had positively raved about the O+ she had achieved in Charms. Still, she ranted on and on about James Potter, Sirius Black and their lapdogs. She also still seemed to be very close with Snape. As a matter of fact, they still seemed to be best friends. Harry was still eagerly waiting for the bit where it became apparent how the one-eighty happened that allowed James Potter to win over Lily Evans and for Snape to presumably be cast into the background.

When he realized breakfast was approaching, Harry had packed his bag and made his way up to the owlery where he now stood, watching Hedwig fly off with the letter of acceptance he had drafted the night before regarding the Flamel's invitation. Harry was sending it to Augusta as she had ordered before it would be sent off to Flamel. If Augusta made no changes, she would simply send it off for him. If she wanted something changed, she would send it back with her suggestions in a separate letter and Harry would make said adjustments before shipping it off. Honestly, it still felt odd to have adults of any kind helping him with anything even though it had been more than a year now since meeting Neville and Augusta. It was not a bad feeling. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact, but that still didn't make it any less peculiar to Harry, who had grown up conditioned to expect the exact opposite. With a jolt, he realized it had actually been closer to a year and a half. Where the time had gone since the fateful day in the ditch off the side of a road Merlin only knew where, Harry was not sure.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts when he heard movement behind him. When he turned, his eyebrow quirked as he smiled slightly in amusement. "With the amount we've met up lately," Harry joked lightly, "one might think you've been making it happen, Parvati." Harry teased as the girl entered the room, presumably in search of her own owl. When she heard Harry, she jumped about a foot into the air. Evidently, she hadn't seen him. Harry winced. "Sorry," he told her, "I had assumed you saw me. My bad on that one."

Parvati took a moment to compose herself before she smiled back at him. "No, it's ok; you just startled me, was all. I should've been paying more attention." She sighed. "Let me guess, you've been awake for three hours now?"

Harry's lips twitched. "Almost four, actually, but I was awake a bit earlier than normal this morning."

Parvati tilted her head. "How come?"

Harry shrugged. "Couldn't sleep." The actual answer to that question was 'nightmares' but Harry would not be admitting that so freely.

Parvati just shook her head. "I'm surprised you even sleep at all." She muttered.

Harry smiled. "Unfortunately, it is an essential bodily function. If it wasn't, I might not bother."

Parvati just giggled. "I was joking, you prat!"

Harry smirked. "I know, but I wasn't."

* * *

**November 22nd 1992.**

**The Room of Requirement.**

**4:43 PM.**

"Bombarda!"

Harry's cry broke through the noise of his three friends, all of whom were also practicing in the Room of Requirement. The noise of his cry was nothing to the resounding bang that reverberated through the room once Harry's target, a stone statue that the room had conjured up that looked conspicuously like Snape, was blown to bits of rubble. Harry's outburst of celebration was the only sound in the room once the echo of the blast had worn off. All three of his friends were staring at him, open mouthed.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked him, sounding absolutely awe struck.

Harry grinned at the other three of them widely; he couldn't help it. "The blasting curse!" He told them. "Remember back in September when I told you that I had to master it by Christmas without the incantation? Well, I've been working on the no incantation bit, but I only really started on the spell a while ago. It's been giving me hell ever since; that was actually the first time I managed it at all."

Ron whistled. "Bloody brilliant!" He commended. "That's what that was!"

"What year is that taught?" Neville asked, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. Neville had focused much more this school year and had grown in leaps and bounds in Defense, Charms and Transfiguration. Frankly, he was still rather inept at potions when Harry wasn't tutoring him, but some things never changed, he supposed. In particular, however, Neville had put a frankly absurd amount of effort into Defense. As a result, the improvements in Neville's wand work in said subject was absolutely awe inspiring.

"Fifth." Harry answered, seeing no reason to downplay the act. "Maybe in a year, or a bit more, or whenever you're ready, I can teach you?" Neville nodded resolutely and smiled at Harry in thanks. Harry knew just the implication that he thought Neville could pull it off maybe even two years early would mean the world to him. "How have you guys come along?" Harry asked the other three.

It turned out the other three had done quite well. Neville had mastered three new spells for defense, Dean was easily performing transfigurations that would not be asked of them until Easter, and Ron was well past the Christmas break in terms of his charms work.

"That's brilliant!" Harry told them all genuinely. It was so nice to have friends, but it was another thing altogether to see them succeed, even more so because Harry reasonably felt as if he had made a large difference and contribution towards said success.

"What's next for you then?" Ron asked with a raised eyebrow, obviously wondering how the fourth member of their quartet would possibly top the blasting curse.

Harry sighed. "Well, that was O.W.L magic. Now we're onto N.E.W.T magic, because I have to master the damn thing without a word or Moody will have my hide."

* * *

**November 25th 1992.**

**An Abandoned Classroom.**

**8:33 PM.**

Harry rubbed at his temples as if to massage his brain as he and Daphne concluded another night, this one focused solely upon Ancient Runes. According to Daphne, Harry was moving through the third year curriculum at a startling rate, something he was very grateful for. He had been putting in as much time as his other pursuits would allow him outside of their time together and while he had Daphne at his disposal, he did his best to pick her brain on anything and everything he could think of that she could reasonably answer. He thought they worked very well together. Her Transfiguration and Charm work had come a long way, but he was improving in both Runes and Potions at a rapid rate as well, so he thought the trade off had honestly worked well both ways. That was not even considering the fact that he enjoyed their friendship for what it was. It was so nice to be talking to Daphne again with the worries of Halloween and their drama behind them. Sure, she was perhaps a bit more restrained than normal with her quips and the like, but Harry thought such things were only natural, if not inevitable in a situation like theirs.

Daphne sighed as she leaned back, seeming to slide out of what Harry liked to think of as her "lecture mode". "Was there anything else you wanted to ask me about Runes, or Potions, or whatever?" Daphne asked as she checked the time. "I should be going soon, but I have a little bit of time left." Harry hesitated and Daphne's eyes narrowed. She really was entirely too perceptive at times. "Harry, why are you nervous to ask me a question? I would think it's pretty obvious you can ask me most things without worrying."

Harry bit his lip. "It's not about magic, at least, not really." He said hesitantly.

Daphne frowned but raised an eyebrow almost challengingly. "So? I still don't see why you'd be nervous to ask."

"It might sort of fall under family bus-"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Harry! Just ask the stupid question! If I can't answer you I won't, but if I can, I will." Harry flushed. He had never been allowed to ask questions with the Dursleys, least of all of the personal variety. As the old saying went, old habits die hard. Harry thought he was mostly over the habit in the presence of Dumbledore and Augusta, but even though he was friends with Daphne, he was not as familiar with her as he was the other two, so the impulse to bite his tongue still reared its ugly head from time to time.

Biting down said impulses, Harry finally opened his mouth to ask the question. "Has your family had any dealings with Nicholas Flamel that you know of?"

The question seemed to take Daphne completely off guard for she opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "What?" She asked, thoroughly perplexed.

Harry sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "He invited me to a gala on the twenty-fourth of December. I've accepted, but I was pretty much just wondering if you could tell me anything about him?"

Daphne's eyes widened. "He invited you to his annual gala?" When Harry nodded, Daphne could not help but look surprised. "Well… Merlin, Harry — congratulations!" She seemed to want to hug him or something similar but she restrained herself. "I honestly can't tell you that much about him." Daphne said apologetically. "I wish I could, but I really don't know much myself to be honest. I could maybe ask father since he definitely has dealt with him, or at least people working for him in the past, but I can't promise anything."

Harry smiled, relieved at how that had gone. He would one day curb his irrational impulse against asking questions but unfortunately, that day had not yet come. "Thanks Daphne, I appreciate it."

* * *

**December 1st 1992.**

**The Gryffindor Common Room.**

**9:08 PM.**

When Harry and Neville returned from The Room of Requirement that night, they found the common room in quite a state of unrest. Shooting sideways glances at one another, the two second year Gryffindor boys swiftly made their way over towards their other two friends, Ron and Dean, who were both doing homework in arm chairs close to the fireplace. "What has this lot in such a state?" Harry asked as he took the armchair next to Ron.

"See for yourself." Dean said with a grin, gesturing towards the notice board on the common room wall. Plastered upon it was a message saying that Hogwarts would be holding the first meeting of a new duelling club in just over two weeks time, on December 17th.

Harry's brow furrowed. "That… could actually be really interesting." He admitted as his heart quickened a fraction at the thought of duelling.

Ron sighed dramatically. "You just want to school everyone in the year, don't you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'd actually want to duel some upper years but sure, that could be fun too."

Ron sighed even more dramatically. "Impossible, he is." He told Dean and Neville, both of whom were snickering at the display put on. "Who do you reckon will run it?" Ron asked Harry as if he would obviously know. Somewhat annoyingly, the other two were also looking at him curiously, as if it was only natural he would know the answer.

Frowning, he thought for a moment but could only see one logical solution. "Flitwick would make the most sense." He said after a time. "He was a European champion duelist and I think maybe even a World Champion at one point." He did his best to imitate Malfoy's trademarked sneer. "So of course, knowing Hogwarts, it'll be Lockhart or some rubbish because they can never take the logical solution." All four of them laughed uproariously at that comment, hardly able to imagine Gilderoy Lockhart leading a duelling club of any sorts.

* * *

**December 6th 1992.**

**An Out of Order Girl's Lavatory. **

**8:24 PM.**

"This really was a brilliant place to brew the potion!" Hermione congratulated Ginny enthusiastically. "How did you think of this place, anyways? Nobody ever comes here."

Ginny shrugged as a mask of perplexed innocence slid effortlessly onto her features. "I honestly have no idea." She said with far more confidence than she had felt for most of the year. Only really in the last couple of weeks had Ginny noticed a sudden surge in her confidence. It was odd and sudden, but Ginny was grateful for it. Oftentimes now, she simply… knew what to do, or what to say, and she figured it was that which was boosting her own self esteem so drastically.

Hermione shrugged. "Well, it's about halfway done anyways. It should be ready by Christmas. As long as Malfoy and the other idiots stay over Christmas, we should be able to figure something out, like you said."

Ginny nodded, smiling confidently back at Hermione. "Even if Malfoy doesn't know exactly what's going on, he will likely know something useful." As she said those words, odd butterflies crept up inside her stomach, as if she were greatly anticipating something. What she was anticipating, Ginny had no idea. "We need the boomslang skin soon." She said absentmindedly as she peered into the depths of the mud like potion.

Hermione frowned. It was positively stunning how quickly Ginny had improved in Potions. At the beginning of the year, she had been average for certain, but no more so than that. Now, she had often pointed things out about the Polyjuice potion that Hermione hadn't even known. When Hermione asked how Ginny knew these things, she had always blown her off in a similar manner to how she had done just moments earlier. It was odd. If Ginny was not so genuine, Hermione may have even been suspicious.

"I can probably do it during Potions." Hermione offered. "Snape hates Potter and his group of friends. He'll probably blame anything I do on them."

Ginny had to resist a frown. She did not want Harry or Ron blamed for something that wasn't their fault but she felt an odd… compulsion, she supposed, to go along with it. After all, what could Snape really do without evidence? What was the worst thing that could happen? "That sounds like a plan." Ginny told Hermione, who smiled before excusing herself to head off to the library.

When she left, Ginny quickly glanced around the room before she bent down, withdrew a crystal vial from her pocket that she had conjured minutes earlier and filled it with some of the liquid. She would need to get some of her own ingredients, but it couldn't hurt to take a bit of the potion for more… recreational uses. She thought, perhaps, with a most uncharacteristically sinister smile that it would probably even be useful.

* * *

**December 7th 1992.**

**The Great Hall.**

**8:11 AM.**

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Me and my wife are thrilled to hear of your acceptance and are eager to meet you on the twenty-fourth of December. The gala will begin promptly at 8:00 PM and will proceed until sometime soon after 12:00 AM on the twenty-fifth. Formal attire is required, but no other additional requirements are existent. _

_The finest of fortune until then,_

_Nicholas Flamel._

Harry was oddly tempted to just show his friends the letter as they shot him odd, inquisitive glances. He didn't though, for that would have raised questions he did not want to be answering in their current setting. Fortunately, he was saved from doing so when Professor McGonagall came around with the list for Christmas break, allowing Harry and Neville both to sign their names to return back to Longbottom Manor. Dean too signed to go home, but Ron told Professor McGonagall he was staying behind. Harry felt oddly guilty for his friend. His parents were leaving for Egypt but as it turned out, they did not have the funds to bring their children with them. Neville had offered to maybe ask Augusta about Ron staying at Longbottom Manor, but Ron had turned him down. As he told them, he would have Fred and George to keep him company, and anyways, he wasn't quite sure that his family would let him leave if none of his siblings had the option.

Neville had simply shrugged and gone back to his eggs, leaving Harry to ponder the letter he would need to send later that day in order to further a plan he had nearly forgotten about until now.

* * *

**December 9th 1992.**

**An Abandoned Classroom.**

**8:39 PM.**

Harry and Daphne finished yet another session in which Harry's brain was thoroughly put to the test by the complexities of Ancient Runes. Last week, they had worked on Transfiguration, so he supposed it was only fair. He really wanted to conclude the third year curriculum in Runes soon. He was well into the fourth year curriculum now in both Transfiguration and Defense Against The Dark Arts. In fairness, much of the third year Defense curriculum he really couldn't practice since it centered heavily on magical creatures, but he knew the theory. Transfiguration was just something that had always come extremely naturally to him. When he had learned the switching spell back before Halloween for their prank, he had figured he would try the other fourth year material. At this rate, it was very likely that he would be done with the fourth year curriculum by Easter at the latest. By the end of the year, his goal was to have half of the fifth year section completed. He wasn't quite as far ahead in Charms, likely early fourth year, but he still figured the fourth year curriculum was doable by the end of the year.

In terms of mastering the spellwork involved in the three wanded subjects, Supplementary Occlumency had been invaluable. So, in the last day or two, he had built up Thought Streams, something he had gained enough proficiency with to open one additional stream. It was taxing and he could only hold it for about five minutes, but those five minutes were always absurdly productive ones. He had still yet to manage the blasting curse non verbally, but he had managed Lumos once or twice, and according to Dumbledore, once he managed any success at all, the rest would come at a rapid rate.

"You're learning all of this really fast." Daphne complimented with a sigh, as she leaned back, stretching her arms leisurely over her head and smiling at him.

Harry grinned. "I've been working on them when I can outside of lessons. Honestly, I haven't had a whole lot of time lately, so I'm happy that I've managed to keep improving."

"You've done brilliantly," Daphne told him honestly, "Charms next week for me?"

Harry shrugged. "Transfiguration, Charms, Defense, whatever you'd like?"

Daphne paused. "Maybe Defense then," she said with a sigh, "I haven't learned a thing from Lockhart all year and I do unfortunately still want to stay ahead in that subject if I can."

Harry dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I'll do my best." He told her honestly, getting to his feet with a stretch of his own.

"I did ask my parents about Flamel, you know?" Daphne informed him, promptly causing Harry to turn around with a look of surprise.

"And?"

"They really couldn't tell me much," Daphne said apologetically, "just that he was very generous with his payments and prices and that he had always been easy to work with." She shrugged. "It's not a whole lot, but sometimes, something small like that can be a lot if you know what to make of it."

Harry frowned. "I didn't get the same lessons in politics that you did as a kid." He said quietly. "I've been learning a bit, but I'm not as far ahead as I'd like to be."

Daphne paused and gave him a rather inquisitive look. "We could maybe meet a second day and I could help you with that." Daphne offered, catching Harry by surprise.

"I don't want you to go out of your way to help me." He told her. "I'll learn it eventually, I just don't have the time or resources."

Daphne shrugged. "It's ok, we could do it on the weekend, but we might need a better spot to meet up. I'm not really sure how often people use this room on the weekend when they can roam more freely."

Harry pondered for a few moments. He knew of the perfect place, but did he trust Daphne enough to show her. In the end, the decision wasn't that hard, and privately, Harry had to ask himself whether it was a good or a bad thing that he was growing to trust people more easily, if only slightly. He didn't have the answer, but he justified his decision easily enough. Really, Daphne couldn't do anything to hurt him or his friends with the information, at least not directly.

"I know of a place." Harry told her. "You'll have to get there undetected though, because I really don't like the idea of people finding it out."

Daphne crooked an eyebrow. "And what is this magical place you speak of?"

Harry smirked. "I'll tell you if you explain to me how you manage to turn invisible."

Daphne stuck her nose up at him. "No chance, Potter." She said in the most snide and snooty voice she could manage.

Harry continued to smirk right back at her as he made for the door. "Then I suppose, Ms. Greengrass, you will find out on the weekend." He paused. "Sunday after dinner, maybe?" Daphne's nod was all the confirmation Harry needed. It was rather odd to be learning about politics from a twelve year old, but Daphne had been learning it for years and at the very least, she knew enough to progress him in the field. Honestly, he figured one or two lessons before the Flamel gala couldn't hurt.

* * *

**December 10th 1992.**

**The Potions Classroom. **

**10:13 AM.**

Harry sent Neville his patented, "don't you dare" look to signify that his friend was about to add the wrong ingredient as he stirred the potion in an unorthodox manner that he knew would speed up the brew time. Just as he made his final stir and turned to Neville for the next ingredient, he nearly leapt out of his chair when a loud bang resonated through the room. Seconds later, horrible, acrid smelling smoke was wafting through the classroom as the potion used by Hermione Granger and Seamus Finnigan had clearly turned explosive. Harry could feel some pity for Granger. She was genuinely very good at potions, but Finnigan was a menace and anything he touched practically screamed disaster. As Snape descended day on Finnigan, Granger got to her feet, evidently intent on using a restroom to clean herself off. Snape, having been distracted by the accident in front of him, did not notice as Hermione crept through the door leading to Snape's private quarters.

But Harry did, and his eyes quickly became as large as saucers. Hermione Granger, breaking the rules? Invading a teacher's private space? Trespassing?

'What are you playing at, Granger? It's clearly very important to you, if you're breaking rules.'

* * *

**December 17th 1992.**

**The Great Hall.**

**8:00 PM.**

The muttering in the Great Hall seemed to continuously rise in volume every second the collected students had to wait to see who would be instructing them in the first meeting of the newly formed Duelling Club. Harry, Ron, Neville, Dean, and the Weasley twins, along with Lee Jordan had managed to snatch spots near the front. The seven of them waited just as eagerly as the rest, but when Gilderoy Lockhart swept out onto the stage wearing magenta robes and being trailed by Professors Snape and Flitwick, Harry's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

"Holy hell," he breathed, "I was JOKING!" The twins and Jordan shot him odd, confused looks but his three friends tried hard to suppress their laughter. Seeing as they were all suitably mortified by what Harry considered to be a great travesty, they did not have to try quite as hard as they may usually have had to.

"Well hello!" Lockhart called to the gathered students as he looked down on them from the stage, waving jubilantly as Flitwick too smiled enthusiastically, and Snape sneered. Harry thought Flitwick's smile was a bit forced and that, if at all possible, Snape's sneer came even easier to him than normal. "Can everybody hear me?" Lockhart called to the masses. When he received an overwhelmingly affirmative, if exasperated and rather annoyed response, he continued, seeming oblivious to the fact that the latter two emotions were spreading through the gathered crowd like wildfire.

"Right, splendid! Well, in light of the little conundrum we have going on at this most wonderful school, I thought it would be a marvellous idea to teach all of you how to protect yourselves in these less than safe times. The Headmaster graciously agreed so here I am, standing before you with my lovely assistants, Professor Flitwick and Snape."

"If he calls Snape lovely again," whispered Fred, "I don't think it'll be the curse that does him in."

"Now, what do all of you say we have these two fine gentlemen give us a little demonstration?" Clearly, this was pre planned, for Flitwick and Snape quickly took up opposing positions on either side of the large, ostentatious stage that had been conjured in the middle of the hall. Harry had to give Lockhart at least a modicum of props. He knew his strengths and weaknesses if nothing else. He was playing this out perfectly, putting all of his dramatic flair to work while not exposing himself as a fraud. By having Snape duel Flitwick, he could keep his dignity and provide the promised show at the same time.

"Now," Lockhart said with a flourish, "all duels begin with a standard bow." He gestured to both men and they both bowed, Flitwick doing so far deeper and more elaborately than Snape. "Now, on the count of three, both men will fire their spells. They will only look to disarm or incapacitate their opponent. Ready gentlemen? Alright! One, two, three!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Snape's spell flew towards Flitwick, but the man moved so fast that most in the crowd gasped. Harry did not; he had seen Flitwick move for the better part of a year and he had honestly moved faster during their mock duels. Nevertheless, Flitwick quickly darted to the left and had a perfect angle to attack Snape.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Instead of dodging, Snape raised his wand almost lazily. "Aegis Vocar." His shield flared, but held and Lockhart quickly stepped between them. Harry sighed; he would have loved to see how that duel might have ended.

"Thank you gentlemen!" Lockhart said graciously. "A rather rudimentary display if I do say so myself, but adequate nonetheless." When Harry saw Snape's lip begin to curl, he suddenly realized Fred may have been onto something with Lockhart's proposed murder at the hands of their Potions Master. After droning on for several more minutes, Lockhart finally began to divide their year into pairs. Harry wound up paired with Theodore Nott. He almost laughed when Snape paired Neville with Malfoy, maintaining a malicious glint in his eye the whole time. Snape was going to be more than a little bit surprised at the outcome. Harry was confident that Neville would easily be a top 5 student in Defense this year. Snape and the sneering Malfoy were going to get a rather rude awakening when they realized the work Neville had been tirelessly putting in was paying off.

As for Harry, he knew that Nott was one of the best Defense students in his year. He also did not care. For all of his modesty, Harry was also a realist. He knew that nobody in his year could compete with him. This duel was going to end one way and one way only. The outcome was inevitable.

"Are we all ready?" Lockhart called to the hall. When nobody objected, he began his count. "On three, two, one, commence!" Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy start early, but he was distracted a moment later when Nott fired a spell that was definitely not the expected disarming spell towards Harry.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry sidestepped easily, cutting a similar angle on Nott that Flitwick to the one had cut on Snape before firing off a disarming charm. To his mild surprise, Nott managed to evade the spell with admirable grace and retaliated with a boil curse. Harry didn't even bother with a Protego. He simply activated the mobile Aegis Vocar shield and let it absorb the spell before he decided to up the ante a bit.

"Stupefy!"

Nott just barely managed to dodge Harry's stunner. His follow up bludgeoner, which followed the stunner at a speed that shocked the Nott heir as it grazed him, causing him to cry out and stagger. If the spell would have connected properly the duel would be over. Then, Nott's next spell took Harry aback; he knew of it, but only from a book he had snuck out of The Restricted Section earlier that year.

"Oblito!"

That, as Harry knew, was the incantation for the blinding curse. It would only last about an hour if not countered, but it was apparently horrifyingly painful for the first thirty or so seconds and Harry had no intention of being hit with it. If Nott wanted to play without the kid gloves, Harry would oblige him.

He waited for the spell to near him, almost smirking at the victorious glint in Nott's eyes before, at the last second, Harry batted the spell with the tip of his wand and sent it spiraling towards a thoroughly dumb struck Theodore Nott. Harry was mildly relieved. He had never tried deflecting a spell with such a horrid nature to it. There had been a chance it would not work but luckily, it did. Nott cried out in pain a second later, his scream filling the hall just as Harry swept his wand outwards, banishing Nott away from him with no incantation. He had finally grasped non verbal casting. Some of the more complex spells he knew still eluded him, but he could manage it for most spells now. The banishing spell was one he had mastered, but not quite non verbally. It worked perfectly fine, but his control without an incantation was not perfect. As a result, instead of simply being thrown a few feet back, Nott was thrown more than ten, where he landed hard on the floor. Within two seconds of landing, he had been hit in the sternum with a bludgeoning curse and been disarmed. Suffice to say, Harry had not appreciated his use of a curse like the blinding curse.

At that moment, Harry was sure that Snape would have bore down on him, if not for the scene playing out behind him. Malfoy, who was on the ground, wandless and covered in boils, was smirking victoriously at Neville who looked like he had no idea what to do as a large, venomous looking snake slithered towards him.

'Oh shit!'

Evidently, Malfoy had gotten one spell off at least. Without thinking, Harry bolted towards his friend, leaping right over the snake and landing with his back to Neville and looking directly at the approaching serpent, having pivoted in mid air. Just as the snake reared back, Harry opened his mouth and unbeknownst to him, his voice came out as a hiss.

"**Stop!"**

To his surprise, the snake obeyed. Clearly, the rest of the hall had been just as surprised, for they were all silent. But then, something clicked. If they were all surprised over the snake halting, why were they all looking at him with wide, terrified eyes. Then, the whole hall broke out into shouts, obscenities, and general chaos. Harry even had a few spells flung his way and before he knew it, Ron, Dean and Neville had surrounded him, quickly and efficiently marshalling him from the hall before things could get too out of control.

"What just-"

"Not here!" Neville said sharply, and his voice was more serious than Harry had heard it in months. It was enough to queue him to shut up and allow himself to be led up to The Room of Requirement. Only when they entered said room did Neville turn to Harry. "Why didn't you tell us? Me, at least?"

Harry blinked. "Tell you what?"

"You're a bleeding Parselmouth." Ron breathed in absolute shock, looking at Harry with wide eyes. Dean looked just as confused as Harry, but he had clearly read the situation and gone along with it.

"What is a Parselmouth and why is any of that surprising, or a bad thing, or-"

"Harry," Neville said, taking a deep, calming breath before continuing, "do you have any idea what you just did?"

Harry looked confused. "I jumped in front of you because I didn't want you to get bitten by a snake!" He pointed out, a bit annoyed at all of this. "I don't see-"

"You talked to it, Harry."

Harry blinked. "Well… I said stop, and it somehow listened, but-"

"Is that what you said?" Ron asked, nodding slowly along as if several pieces had suddenly come together.

Harry frowned. "What do you mean, 'is that what you said'? You heard me, didn't you?"

Ron shook his head. "I heard you hiss at the snake, mate. I had no idea what you said."

Then, it clicked. "Wait… hiss?"

"Harry," Neville said in a patient, but almost tired sounding voice, "you didn't speak English."

"But I-"

"I'm not saying you didn't mean to speak English but facts are facts, your voice wasn't English — it wasn't even human. You talked in snake language, hisses that no human should be able to make."

Harry gaped. He knew Neville, his friend would not pull something like this on him so he knew that what he was saying had to be true, even though it sounded positively ludicrous.

"But-but how?"

"Parseltongue." Neville explained, paling a bit at the word but pressing on valiantly. "It's what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. They apparently called him Serpent Tongue because he could talk to snakes." When it was clear that Harry had missed the significance of Neville's statement, he specified. "It was a trait that all of his heirs over the years were said to have."

Then, it clicked.

_Enemies of the heir, beware._

'Oh… fuck!'

"But that's impossible!" He breathed. "I'm not the heir of Slytherin — surely they can't all think-"

"Did you see how they reacted?" Dean asked, now rather pale as opposed to his Normal complexion. It was clear that he too had put two and two together. "They were cursing you mate. They do think it's you."

"But it's not!"

"How do you know that?" Ron asked darkly.

Harry rounded on him just as his friend realized he had worded that very poorly. "I think I'd know if I was sending a ruddy monster-"

"That's not what I meant!" Ron placated at once, holding up his hands in surrender. "I know you're not THE Heir of Slytherin, but you might be A Heir of Slytherin."

"But that's insane!"

"Is it though?" Dean asked, looking to Ron for confirmation. "You said all of Slytherin's heirs had the power to talk to snakes. Are they the only ones who have it?"

Ron nodded solemnly. "I don't see how else you could speak it, mate." He told Harry, sounding apologetic.

"But that's impossible." Harry whispered, looking imploringly at his brother in all but blood. "It is impossible, isn't it?"

Neville shot Harry an apologetic look and Harry knew he was about to hear something that he did not want to hear under any circumstances. "Not even a little bit." Neville told him. "You're closely related to the Potters and the Blacks. Both families are known for being really secretive about their family secrets. For all we know, you could be an Heir of Slytherin."

"The Blacks have been Slytherins for generations." Ron put in.

"But my parents would've been a Parselmouth." Harry argued weakly. "Or one of the Blacks if it's on that side."

"They could have hidden it." Ron said weakly.

"Or," Neville said, "it could be a dormant trait. A bunch of families have magical gifts that don't show up for generations."

"Guys?" Dean asked, a bit nervously. "Beyond the whole Chamber of Secrets business, why would it be so bad for somebody to be a Parseltongue, or whatever you call it."

"Parselmouth." Ron corrected and with a sympathetic look towards Harry, he answered Dean's question. "Even outside of Hogwarts, people would try and hide it. It's not exactly… uh… a good thing if you ask most people. Well… you know the myths about Slytherin and muggleborns but… well… You-Know-Who was a Parselmouth, one of the most famous in centuries."

Harry's eyes widened as the wind was ripped from his lungs. Now he understood. Now he understood how a gift he had not realized he had until today was such a taboo in the wizarding world of Magical Britain.

* * *

**December 18th 1992.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**3:14 PM.**

To put it lightly, Harry had been experiencing what he considered to be a rather miserable day. He had barely slept the night previous. It had been so bad, in fact, that he had given up at half past three and just read ahead in his mother's journal. He was now late into her third year. She was writing less and less as the years went on. It was clear that she was slowly growing out of the practice. Even when he had woken up and left his bed, completed his workout regiment and strode into The Great Hall, his time had not improved. He received death glares from the entire student body, minus his few friends and most of Gryffindor house. Last night, Parvati Patil, bless her soul, had stood up in the middle of the common room and loudly proclaimed Harry couldn't be the Heir of Slytherin. She had seen him the night Colin had been attacked. There was no way he could have snuck out of the common room after that and petrified the first year Gryffindor. Most of the house believed her and did not treat Harry with outright hostility. In saying so, they still avoided him like the Black Plague. It was not favourable to be seen associating with somebody who was the supposed Heir of Slytherin. People actually scooted away from him at the breakfast table, for Merlin's sake.

This, in conjunction with his naturally grumpy mood as a result of little to no sleep had not gotten his day off to a good start. At the time, he had taken comfort in the fact that surely, his day could not get any worse. That day, Harry Potter learned that challenging the gods of irony was a positively miserable idea.

He had scampered off alone to the library to try and find any and all books on the Black and Potter family histories in an effort to somehow prove he was not the Heir of Slytherin, even though Neville had pointed out very reasonably that if he was, the family responsible probably would have hidden said information. Especially if it was the Potters, who had been notorious Gryffindors for generations. While searching, Harry overheard a conversation that practically condemned him as the next Lord Voldemort, something that upset him more than he cared to admit. It was not the inkling that he might go dark that bothered him. It was the comparison to a man who had murdered his parents and ruined his, and so many other's lives.

Still, the day managed to surprise him and get even worse. Just his luck, after literally walking head first into Hagrid while lost in thought, Harry stumbled upon the petrified forms of Nearly-Headless Nick and a Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley. As a matter of fact, it was one of the few Hufflepuffs who had been calling him Voldemort reincarnated several minutes prior. Then, as if that situation was not bad enough, Harry had been loudly called out by Peeves and brought to Dumbledore's office by a pale, rather sick looking Professor McGonagall.

Now, Harry awaited Dumbledore, positively shaking as he looked upon the ashes of Dumbledore's pet bird. If it wasn't bad enough he was caught at the scene of the crime with any and all bits of evidence pointing to him being the culprit, now Dumbledore's pet had died too. Just as the worry became almost too much to bear, the office door finally opened, and a rather grim looking Professor Dumbledore strode inside, waving his wand distractedly and conjuring Harry his usual chair.

Harry did not have to be asked to sit down. "Professor — I'm so sorry — I really am. Your bird, I don't know-" then, Harry stopped dead as Dumbledore did the last thing Harry thought he would do.

He began to laugh.

"Harry, you forget that Fawkes is no ordinary bird — he is a phoenix. Do you know much about phoenixes, Harry?" Harry shook his head. "I thought not, judging by your reaction. Allow me to enlighten you. Phoenixes are immortal creatures — truly and completely immortal. If they 'die', either by reaching their burning day, as you have witnessed, or suffering physical death, they are simply reincarnated from the ashes that swiftly follow their demise." He smiled. "Observe." He told his charge, his smile widening at the look of shocked incredulity as slowly, a minuscule bird poked its head out of the ashes, still bald and featherless.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, "onto more important matters."

"Sir, I promise — I know it looks bad but I didn't… I would never-"

"Calm down, Harry. I will tell you the same thing that I told you on Halloween. I am well and truly aware that you did not cause what happened today. I will extrapolate that statement even further by saying that I know you are not responsible for any of the attacks that have befallen the school. I very much doubt that there is anything our world could present me that would change my mind on that fact either now or in the future."

Harry was gaping. "You… don't think I did it?"

"No, I do not. I like to think I am a fairly good judge of character, and I am sure you would not do such a thing. Furthermore, I have some vague ideas as to what may be going on here, even if the specifics completely elude me for the time being. Ignoring all of that, if you were planning all of this, Harry, I do not think you would have warned me about it in advance."

A long, almost comfortable silence stretched between them before Harry broke it. "You have heard that I'm a Parselmouth, Headmaster?" Harry's voice was weak, almost hopeful, almost as if he hoped Dumbledore had not.

"I did." Dumbledore answered neutrally. "I must admit that I found that fact rather intriguing, if not wholly surprising."

"You knew?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, I did not know. I did, however, think it one of many possibilities."

"Do you know how I'm a Parselmouth then? Were my parents? Or the Blacks?"

Dumbledore took a full minute before he answered. "I… do not think it best I answer that question quite yet. I will do so as soon as this debauckle is over, but for your own safety, it is better if you do not know as of yet. I will tell you that I do not believe you are an Heir of Slytherin." He paused. "At least… not in the traditional sense."

Harry tried hard not to scowl. "Are-are you sure, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Honestly, Harry, I am anything but sure nowadays. I do believe it is in your best interests that I do not tell you my theory, however. Partially because it may be confirmed or denied in time with the progression of these events. And partially because by doing so, I believe I would be putting you even more at risk than you might be already." Dumbledore ran a hand through his beard as he gave Harry one last, final look. "Have you found out any new information that you think may be of use?"

Harry shook his head, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry, sir, I haven't found anything."

"Very well," Dumbledore told him kindly, "you may go, but before you do so, I wish to impart one final warning and one olive branch, if you will." Harry looked back at him, not knowing what to expect. "We shall start with the latter. The Hogwarts rumour mill can be a dangerous thing at times, Harry. If it ever becomes too much and you wish for a place where none of the school's inhabitants can get to you, my office is open at anytime, whether I am here or not." Harry's eyes widened at that, but not nearly as much so as at Dumbledore's next and final statement. "My warning is this. Please act with care, Harry. I believe there will come a time when I may no longer reside over this castle and I unfortunately believe that said time is fast approaching. When it comes at long last, only then do I believe that The Heir of Slytherin will make his true intentions well and truly known. Only then do I think the Heir will seek out his true target." Dumbledore met Harry's eyes intensely before finishing. "I believe it is you he wants, Harry. The rest of us are simply pawns in a very dangerous game of chess."

* * *

**Author's Endnote:**

**One brief thing here before I sign off.**

**I am sure people will be asking me how Harry did not know about Parseltongue and how he never realized he was a Parselmouth. Long story short, **_**Hogwarts, A History **_**doesn't give as much information on the chamber and Slytherin in this story as it does in canon. I found that wholly too convenient in canon and it really doesn't make sense.**

**Oh yeah, and buckle up for the next one. It is the Flamel's ball along with part I of the Polyjuice potion drama and some other bits sprinkled in here and there. It will also likely be a very long chapter.**

**Please read and review. **

**PS: The next chapter will be posted on Sunday, May 31st 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	28. LOS Ch 13: Politics and Prodigies

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Instagram aci100ff or by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works.**

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**Author's Note:**

**I won't go on about it here since I know you're all here for the chapter, but you may wish to read the AN's at the end of this chapter. in particular, the one where I speak about the timeline for the year.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 13: Politics and Prodigies.**

* * *

**December 21st 1992.**

**King's Cross Station.**

**6:32 PM.**

As the Hogwarts Express rolled into King's Cross Station to mark the beginning of the Christmas break, Harry reflected on what had been a mildly miserable last few days of term following his conversation with Dumbledore. Much to Harry's chagrin, the school had not changed their stance on him. Contrary to that hope, the school had only turned further against him after the attack on Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly-Headless Nick, never mind the fact that Harry was known to be friendly with the ghost. No, it was all part of his elaborate act to trick everyone since he was obviously the next Voldemort. It had gotten to the point after the attack that it became rather dangerous for Harry to walk through the corridors. In light of that, he spent most of his final few days at Hogwarts locked up practicing in the Room of Requirement. Thankfully, his three best friends supported him wholeheartedly and spent most of that time locked up with him. Harry could not help but appreciate that, more so still when much of Gryffindor were simply avoiding him to save their own reputations. Honestly, if Harry was a bit more morally ambiguous, he may have wished an attack would take place over the break. At least then, maybe people would stop blaming somebody who was hundreds of miles away. Then again, knowing the backwards logic that was usually applied to anything and everything in the wizarding world, it would not be all that surprising if that somehow made him more likely to be the Heir of Slytherin.

After all, any society that thought it at all logical to hire Gilderoy Lockhart clearly had some serious issues in terms of fundamental judgement calls.

Honestly, the whole situation was rather depressing to Harry. He had finally found a world where he was not a freak, nor a monster. He had found a world in which he belonged. Sure, he was gawked at for something he could not control and made into some wizarding messiah, which frankly ranked very high on his list of stupid decisions made by wizards. Even in spite of that, and the fact that it irritated him to no end and made him exceedingly uncomfortable, he could tolerate that. But now, for the first time in this new, marvelous world, Harry felt like an unwanted alien once more. It was not an unfamiliar feeling, but the familiarity only made it worse. So much negativity was associated with that feeling. It was honestly just miraculous that they were leaving Hogwarts so soon after the attack. Harry was not certain how much more of that he could have put up with.

"They'll forget about it." Neville assured him kindly just as the train was pulled into King's Cross Station. Harry had been rather quiet for the majority of the ride back to London, and his friend had become quite adept at reading his moods over the past year and a half.

Harry sighed. "I hope so. Luckily for me, you pureblood lot seem to have the attention span of squirrels when it comes to drama and the like, so maybe you're right."

Neville laughed as did Dean and, strangely, Paravati, her sister Padma, and Lavender Brown, all three of whom had joined three fourths of the infamous Gryffindor quartet on their ride back to London.

"You're right, Harry." Parvati said with an encouraging smile just as all of them made to deboard the train. "They'll forget it soon enough. It'll all work out in the end."

Harry smiled back at her. It was an odd sort of friendship he had shared with Parvati. Best he could deduce, she had been the catalyst for much of Gryffindor house leaving him alone. They had formed a sort of easy friendship, even though neither of them knew much of anything else about the other. "Thanks, Parvati." Harry told her just as they were stepping off the train. "I sure hope you're right."

* * *

**Meanwhile, At Malfoy Manor.**

Lucius sighed as he discarded yet another archived edition of _The Daily Prophet. _None of them had provided him the answers that he had been looking for. Draco had told him of the events taking place at Hogwarts. All of them sounded eerily similar to stories his father had told him from his own school days concerning the fabled "Chamber of Secrets". Unfortunately, none of the old papers from that time period seemed to have gleaned a thing about the goings on inside the castle and Lucius had to furiously rub his temples in frustration. It was true that a student had died in that time frame, something that was obviously connected, but the perpetrator's identity had not been made public. The only thing that had been said was that the student who had been caught was expelled. Sighing, Lucius decided it was time to call in a favour.

_Dear Dolores,_

_It has been so long since we last spoke, so I feel obligated to inquire about how things are advancing in terms of your goals. _

_Unfortunately, I am contacting you under less pleasant circumstances than a simple chat, I am afraid. As Head of The Ministry's Board of Education, I am reasonably certain you have access to some records that the rest of us mere citizens may not. I would be… ever so grateful if I could potentially get copies of the records from the 1942-1943 Hogwarts school year. Of course, I would be more than willing to show my gratitude. I have been telling Cornelius for ages that I think you are being terribly under utilized at the ministry, after all..._

* * *

**Later, At Longbottom Manor.**

As always, the first dinner back at Longbottom Manor was positively splendid! It had become a sort of tradition for the elves to prepare heaping plates filled with Harry's and Neville's favourite delicacies on every first dinner back at the manor, and it was a tradition that Harry was very much in favour of. When dinner had concluded and the three of them had finished discussing the less dramatic events of the year, even touching a bit on the fabled Chamber of Secrets and the attacks that had plagued the school since Halloween, Harry thought that finally, at long last, it was time to bring forth a topic that he had been aware of for months now but never had the chance to broach. Evidently, Augusta had become rather skilled at reading him, for her eyes narrowed almost as soon as he began preparing himself for what may come next.

"What is it?" She asked sharply, eyes narrowing.

Harry winced. "Would you… uh, be upset if I told you there was something big I'd waited to talk to you about since July?"

Augusta's lips tightened. "That would depend on your reasons for waiting and how big said news is, I suppose."

Harry shrugged. "I'm honestly not sure how big the news is. It doesn't seem that big but… I don't know. I just have a feeling of sorts."

Augusta sighed. "Harry, you do not do anything in halves. Knowing you as I believe I do, whatever you're about to say is probably far bigger than you even realize."

Harry looked from Neville to Augusta and decided to just come out with it. "You remember on my birthday that we went to Gringotts for the reading of my parents' will?" Both Longbottoms nodded. "Well, we never really had a chance to talk about it with the party, then the tart, and then this whole "Chamber of Secrets" business, but there was something… unexpected in the will."

Augusta tensed and Neville too looked worried, though his showings were more obvious. "Before you go any further, how direct of an impact will this 'surprise' play on you? And, by extension, how important is it?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "That's the thing, I don't know. It seems like it shouldn't matter because of other things, but again… ugh! I can't explain it, I just have a bad feeling." Augusta nodded almost grimly, prompting Harry to continue. With a deep breath, he obliged her by asking a question of his own. "What do you know about Sirius Black and his actions near the end of the war?"

That question seemed to have Augusta thrown off kilter, but she recovered quickly. "He was revealed to be the right hand man of Voldemort after the war's conclusion when he murdered thirteen people, including Peter Pettigrew, who exposed him before his murder." She paused. "I heard… rumours from Frank in the days between the fall of Voldemort and his… tragedy that he had in some way betrayed your parents and directly led that monster to them, but he couldn't say anything more. Oaths, I have always assumed."

Harry sighed. "Most of that is right, from what I can tell, but it's the last part that's important." He could practically see Augusta gearing up for what was sure to be a jarring revelation to match any Harry had made prior. "You know what the Fidelius Charm is?" Augusta nodded and Neville shook his head. "I don't know the specifics," Harry admitted, turning to his friend, "but to make a long story short, from what I was told about it, it's a spell that binds a secret to one person called a secret keeper. Unless you're directly told the secret by that person, it's impossible for you to find it out." Neville looked impressed and Augusta nodded approvingly, signifying that Harry had done an adequate job of summarizing the complex charm.

"Here's where things get interesting." He warned them. "My parents placed the location of their home, or at least, where they were staying under the Fidelius Charm while they were in hiding. Apparently, The Ministry believes that Sirius Black was the secret keeper, the same probably goes for quite a few important people." Harry took a deep breath. "The problem is, Sirius Black was never the secret keeper and he never betrayed my parents. That was Peter Pettigrew."

Deafening silence rang through the room following a short intake of breath from Augusta. Then, about a minute later, she spoke. "So, you think it would stand to reason that Pettigrew likely framed Black of all of those crimes? Supporting Voldemort, betraying your parents, and all the rest?" Harry nodded and Augusta looked as if she were deep in thought. "That… makes a startling amount of sense." She conceded. "If we know that Pettigrew lied about one crime, he probably lied about multiple." She pursed her lips. "I don't see what good this does though." She admitted. "There are eye witnesses that saw Black blow that street to bits and take the muggles, and Pettigrew with it. I suppose he could have been justified for attacking Pettigrew if the rest of this is true, but it wouldn't matter in light of thirteen counts of murder."

Harry hesitated. "Don't cuss me out or anything," he requested, "but is it possible that Pettigrew somehow framed Black for the murders too? Like… he blew up the street but made it look like Sirius did it?"

Augusta did not immediately shoot him down, but Harry could see that she looked sceptical. "I don't see how he could have." She answered. "It would have been very difficult to fool all of those eye witnesses and they found Pettigrew's finger after the attack."

Harry frowned. "Are there trial records for wizarding trials?" He asked. "Maybe the trial shed some more light?" He perked up. "Hang on! The Wizengamot are at the trials, aren't they? Were you not there? Or whoever the Lord or Lady of House Longbottom was at the time?"

Augusta sighed and shook her head. "Frank was the Lord." She told him. "But no, he wasn't there. As far as we know, Black's trial was held behind closed doors in front of a panel of very carefully selected officials. He was sent straight to Azkaban after that."

Harry's danger sense perked up. In conjunction with his feeling of impending doom, that sounded far too suspicious. "Does that mean we can't get the records?"

Augusta shook her head once more. "It shouldn't. It was merely done as a precaution. None of us knew who were Imperiused and who weren't." She scowled. "And who were faking, of course. Either way, those records are mandatorily made public."

Harry looked at her imploringly. "Is there any way you could get a hold of them? I know it's a long shot and if they are public, surely somebody else would have spotted anything off if there is something, but I just… I don't know, I have a bad feeling about all of this."

Augusta sighed but smiled sadly back at him. "It is your history, Harry." She told him kindly. "If anybody deserves to know, it is you. Yes, if it makes you happy, I can do my best to get the transcripts. I have no idea how long that might take, but it shouldn't be too difficult."

* * *

**December 22rd 1992.**

**Gryffindor Tower.**

**The Second Year Boys Dormitory.**

**10:23 AM.**

Ron groaned aloud as he returned to the land of the living. One of the best things thus far about the holidays was the fact that he could have a lie-in whenever he pleased. Mind you, that fact did not make up for the reality that he was without the other three members of his quartet, but it was a rather nice consolation prize. This morning, Ron couldn't give a damn how much extra sleep he had got the night previous, because it clearly hadn't helped. He was very achy, as if he had been on the losing end of a rather one sided fight. It was just a constant throb, but still painful nonetheless. He also felt tired, as if he had been woken up in the middle of the night, which in and of itself would have frankly been an achievement worth bragging about for whoever had managed to wake him up.

The problem was, none of this had happened.

Ron could remember laying down to go to bed last night and he could say with one hundred percent certainty that he had no memories whatsoever between laying down and waking up, which obviously meant that he had slept like a rock, like usual.

So why did he feel like he had been in a car crash sometime between going to bed and waking up? And worse, why did he feel as if something had gone horribly wrong?

* * *

**December 24th 1992.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**7:40 PM.**

At precisely twenty minutes to eight, Harry stood in the center of the Longbottom's entrance hall and awaited the arrival of his escort for the night. He wore black dress robes trimmed in an emerald green that brought out the almost ethereal, constantly present glow in his eyes rather magnificently. In addition, he had a small pin just to the left of his chest that showed his family's crest; a fierce looking Gryphon with two crossed swords. The pin had been a present from Augusta for the occasion. As she had put it, the Greengrass's ball the year prior had been a big deal but it was nothing compared to tonight. This would be Harry dipping his feet into international politics at the age of twelve and Augusta was going to make sure he looked and acted his best. Since he had arrived back at the manor, Augusta had been drilling every bit of etiquette she could into him for such occasions.

Speaking of Augusta, she had been rather reluctant to allow Dumbledore, who was his escort for the night, access of any kind to her property, but after a fair bit of convincing on Harry's part, she had reluctantly acquiesced. One day, Harry would need to get to the bottom of Augusta's fundamental dislike of Dumbledore. Personally, Harry felt as if he probably had more sound foundations than anybody on which he could have easily built a strong, everlasting hatred for Dumbledore but he hadn't. The man had been nothing but helpful since Harry's arrival at Hogwarts. He would never "forgive'' what Dumbledore had done in the past, because it had affected his life so drastically and the carelessness with which it was done was unforgivable. Harry would and was, however, looking past said mistakes and giving Dumbledore a second chance. A second chance which frankly, Dumbledore was making very good on.

Speaking of Dumbledore, at that same, precise moment in time, the Longbottom's chief house elf, Hoskins, popped into the room with a tall, thin man wearing shockingly stylish robes. They were of a deep blue colour the same as his eyes, and trimmed in a soft yet eye catching gold. Dumbledore had clearly apparated to the edge of the property, at which point Hoskins had spared him the walk and popped him through the wards directly.

When Dumbledore saw Harry, he smiled. If the fact that Augusta stood behind him and was very clearly doing her best not to glare at Dumbledore bothered him, he didn't show it. "Ah, Harry! A premature Merry Christmas to you." He inclined his head politely to both Neville and Augusta. "Yourselves as well, Heir Longbottom, Lady Longbottom."

Augusta nodded stiffly. "You as well, Chief Warlock." She returned neutrally.

"Well," Dumbledore said, checking a golden watch on his right wrist, "I think it best if we are off. I would like to be punctual, after all." Harry nodded and said his goodbyes to the Longbottoms before throwing a simple black travelling cloak over top of his robes. From there, Hoskins popped he and Dumbledore to the edge of the property. "Have you ever apparated, Harry?" Dumbledore asked him, actually sounding quite curious as he absentmindedly waved his wand and caused a flowing black travelling cloak of his own to appear over top of his robes.

Harry shook his head. "No sir. I've only ever used the floo." He paused. "Actually, I think I might've done it when I was younger, but I never meant to."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "That is a rather wonderful piece of accidental magic." He complimented. "Why, I can only think of one other..." He allowed his voice to trail off before he offered Harry his arm. "I am not sure how much you know about apparition, but it is a means of wizarding transport that allows a wizard to travel large distances near instantaneously."

Harry nodded. "I know of it, but how does it actually work?"

Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head bemusedly. "You would ask such a complex question, wouldn't you Harry? I should not be so surprised. Well, to vastly simplify things, it warps the world around us. Muggles have a similar theory, I believe. I believe they call it a traversal wormhole." He smiled fondly. "They are not the same, but they are similar. When you focus with sufficient intent on arriving at a very specific place, magic makes it happen in the only way it knows how. You are taught in sixth year the importance of intent in the process of apparition. This is so because of the four pillars of magic. Do you remember them?"

Harry nodded. "Understanding, intent, creativity or visualization and power."

"Very good." Dumbledore commended. "I would award points to Gryffindor if we were still at Hogwarts. Now, none of us understand the process thoroughly enough to visualize its components. As a result, we fundamentally can not utilize understanding, which limits us to the other three pillars. Visualization is extremely important because you must have a vivid image in mind of where you would like to travel in order for magic to take you there. Intent is important because you must truly will this to happen. Intent and desire will fill the hole left by your lack of understanding, but it will only do so if sufficiently supplied. Power is the catalyst, if you will. It is what truly warps space and time into what we will call a wormhole for the sake of simplicity.

"As for how it works, you are fundamentally ripping the universe. You are tearing a hole through space and time, which you essentially push yourself through with magic. Many say that apparition feels much like being shoved through a tube. That is the case because being shoved through a tube is precisely what is happening to you, the tube is simply invisible. Wormholes are not some black sphere like in muggle science fiction. We cannot perceive such an impossibility in the universe, so to our eyes, it simply does not exist. Once the hole from point A to B is torn, there is a sort of conjuration involved. You see, without it, gravity would snap the wormhole shut immediately." Dumbledore paused. "Do you know what exotic matter is, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "No sir."

"Exotic matter, to vastly oversimplify things once more, is matter with a negative mass. Anything with a positive mass is attracted by gravity, so anything with a negative mass is repelled. Think of it as a conjuration, like I have said. You are subconsciously conjuring exotic matter at the edges of the wormhole in order to force it to stay open long enough for you to reach your final destination."

His eyes twinkled. "But alas, we have deliberated for long enough. Come, I am sure Nicholas will wish to meet you before the festivities get underway and the two of us have… things to discuss momentarily." Tentatively, Harry reached out and took hold of Dumbledore's offered arm. "Tighter please, Harry. I may be growing wizened and weak, but I am not yet brittle." He said with a smile. "Better." He said when Harry's grip tightened. "I offer you a fair warning that most witches and wizards alike find their first experience with apparition to be… unpleasant." With the obligatory warning out of the way, Dumbledore spun, his black travelling cloak that he had conjured over top of his robes whipping as the world vanished from around them.

In that moment, Harry knew exactly what Dumbledore meant when he had mentioned the feeling of being compressed through a tube. Except that it was so, so much worse than that. Every bit of Harry felt like it was being pressed forcefully in on itself. His eyes felt as if they would pop from the pressure and he could not so much as hope to draw breath. Thankfully, as Dumbledore had promised, the transportation was almost instantaneous and before they knew it, the two of them were standing very close to what appeared to be an astoundingly stunning coastline with an absolutely massive estate looming nearby. Upon their arrival, Harry staggered but was righted by Dumbledore. There was a moment where he felt the urge to vomit and he did indeed have a bit of a coughing, or more accurately, spluttering fit, but he got over it quickly enough.

"That could have gone worse." Dumbledore said genially. "That was one of several reasons for imposing the admittedly unnecessary walk upon you. I have seen many more… shall we say — messy first attempts, and I did want to save your image from a rather inadvisable first impression."

"Thanks for that." Harry rasped as he took in his surroundings. To Harry's surprise, he no longer felt as if he needed the travelling cloak that was draped around his shoulders. It was warm… like, not a whole ways off of summer kind of warm. "Professor?" Harry asked before Dumbledore could start whatever conversation he wanted to have. "Can you tell me where we are?"

Dumbledore hummed in thought. "I suppose it is not too invasive to Nicholas if I tell you that we are in the French Riviera." He told Harry conspiratorially before getting to business. "We could have simply flooed directly inside the estate, but I wished to speak to you first, so Nicholas was thoughtful and gracious enough to pull the edge of his wards closer to his estate for a brief time."

Harry frowned. "What did you want to talk about, sir?"

"I wanted to warn you, Harry. Though nothing sinister will befall you tonight, you are entering the political arena with some of the best in the world." He paused. "I cannot help you too directly tonight for several reasons. The first of which is that, unfortunately, I do have some politicking of my own to do." His eyes twinkled for a brief point in time. "The second is that I should not show too much outright favouritism towards you, especially given your status as The-Boy-Who-Lived and all of the rest." Harry nodded grimly, he was aware of this already, even if he had no idea if he was ready for it.

"Fortunately," Dumbledore continued, "Nicholas is well aware of these two facts and he is, as I have said, a very gracious man. He has proposed to offer you a sort of… assistant tonight, I suppose. She will be maneuvering for herself and her family as well, but she is very close with Nicholas and he has full and complete faith in her to guide you through the shark infested waters on this most magical evening."

Harry frowned. "Do you know who she is, sir? And why is this a warning? It doesn't sound too bad. Just a bit awkward, maybe."

"I do know who she is, yes." Dumbledore said. "We have never met, but Nicholas has raved about her for the past number of years. She is not what you will be expecting when I describe somebody capable of guiding you through politics." He warned Harry. "For one thing, she is only a few years older than yourself. I believe she is in her fourth year at Beauxbatons, though she turned fifteen a few short months ago, if memory serves me correctly." Harry's eyebrows rose. Dumbledore was right; that certainly would not have been what he would have expected. "There is also the fact that by all accounts, she is jaw droppingly beautiful." He winked at Harry, who blushed. "I am warning you of this in advance because I do not wish to see you made a fool of upon meeting her."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for that." He uttered again, and Dumbledore chuckled.

"I have one other reason for warning you of this fact." He said. "Though Nicholas does have only the best of intentions, I am sure, he would not have offered up his protégé, for lack of a better phrase, without a very set goal. My belief is that he wishes to observe you through her, though he may have a more direct goal in mind. Whatever it is, I am sure it is good and pure and there is absolutely no need to be on guard or to be secretive, but I did want to warn you that Nicholas is nothing if not a master politician." Harry nodded slowly. It made sense and honestly, he figured if he were Flamel, he'd do the same thing. Mind you, he also would not have thought of it, but that was another point altogether.

"Thanks for the warning." Harry said sincerely as they approached the front door. "I'll keep it in mind."

Dumbledore nodded. "I am still technically your magical guardian," he said gently, "I will make it my duty to make up for the sins of the past in the best way I can until the time comes when I no longer fill such an honoured role." Then, the two of them reached the front door and as if it knew they were there and welcome, it swung slowly open.

The first thing Harry thought of when he entered the positively cathedral sized entrance hall and had his cloak relieved from him by an elf was wealth. This place practically screamed of it. There was gold everywhere. The accents, the railings up to the next floor, the mosaics, the picture frames. Harry had never seen nor imagined so much gold before. Far in front of them, several figures were gathered, greeting a few well dressed people whom Harry assumed to be guests. Dumbledore jerked his head towards the figures, signifying they too should make their way towards them. As they were still more than ten minutes early, they were, along with the other guests who were now making their way out of the entrance hall, presumably towards the ball room, the only people in the hall. Combining their early arrival time with Harry's assumption that many of the top political minds in the world would likely arrive fashionably late, he came to the conclusion that most guests probably would not arrive for some time.

Once the other guests were out of sight, the figures turned to face Harry and Dumbledore just as they drew near and Harry had to quickly occlude his mind to prevent himself from gasping and to stop his eyes from widening.

There were six figures gathered, all of whose eyes were now flickering towards Harry, making him mildly uncomfortable as well as stunned. On the far right, two people who were very clearly elders stood. Despite their white hair and slightly wrinkled faces, they appeared to be in rather good shape. Harry assumed that miracle was the work of the real Philosopher's Stone and he knew immediately that those two were Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel. On the far left, a man and a woman stood. The man looked maybe to be in his late thirties, but he had the sort of face that could be deceptive. He could be older, or younger, or he could have nailed his prediction. He was quite tall and he looked very athletic. He was lean but well muscled and had a lithe sort of build to him. He had well styled brown hair, warm brown eyes and well defined, rather aristocratic features. They were marked by a couple of scars, but it did not take away from his appearance. In fact, it only amplified it, if anything, along with the flowing red dress robes he wore.

Standing to his immediate left was the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen. She was quite tall as well, at least as tall as the average man even if she was several inches shorter than her husband, and had positively angelic features, soft, deep blue eyes and platinum blonde hair that seemed to sway in a non existent wind as it flowed down her back and to her waste. Standing between her and the Flamels were too young women who were very clearly her daughters. They looked to be in their teenage years and were both about an inch or two shorter than their mother. Both of them had the same blue eyes and blonde hair, though the one standing closest to the Flamels had hair that seemed to positively glow in an ethereal sort of way. She had slightly softer features than her sister, too, and had perhaps a very slightly more developed frame. She wore a stunning, sleeveless dress of light silver, whereas her sister wore a stunning dress of deep blue, the same colour as her eyes.

Quite simply, these were the three most beautiful women Harry had ever seen and it wasn't even close. Suddenly, he was rather grateful for Dumbledore's warning. It was very likely that he would have indeed made a fool of himself in front of these three beings who seemed positively ethereal.

Their beauty was such that, until the latter spoke, Harry almost forgot that he was in the presence of and in the same room as both Albus Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, the consensus two greatest sorcerers alive.

"Albus!" Flamel said jovially, his perfect white robes flowing as he stepped forward to briefly embrace Dumbledore. When they broke apart, Flamel's dark, calculating eyes quickly rested upon Harry and before he could speak, Dumbledore quickly stepped in.

"I suppose that introductions are in order!" He said cheerfully. "Harry, this is my old friend, Nicholas Flamel. Nicholas, as I am sure you have gleaned, this is Harry Potter."

Harry did not react until Flamel had offered his hand, which Harry took quickly. "Ah yes," Flamel mused thoughtfully, "you do look much like your father as Albus 'as told me, though the eyes shine with the brilliance of your mother, and a magic that I dare say neither of your parents possessed in such awe inspiring quantities."

If Harry had not become used to Dumbledore's whimsical ways of speaking, he may have been taken aback by Flamel. "Did you know them, sir?" Harry asked, trying to keep a note of hopefulness from his voice.

Flamel smiled rather tragically back at him. "Not well," he admitted, "though I 'eard a great deal about them from Albus. I did meet your father quite briefly, though I admit I only ever saw photographs of your mother. From what I 'ave been told, she would be rather proud of your apparent meteoric rise in regards to your academics." Harry had to try hard not to blush, but he managed. "I suppose it is my turn to make introductions." Flamel said with a small smile, beckoning for his wife to step forward first. Harry kissed her hand when it was offered, earning himself a soft smile in return. The customs of different countries were a bit different, but Augusta had told him that such a greeting was always a safe bet and could never be taken wrong.

After he had been introduced to Perenelle, the other four stepped forwards. "These four pure souls are the closest thing I 'ave remaining to family outside of Perenelle." Flamel told Harry. "This is the Delacour family, a line I 'ave been close with for many centuries. The charming young man is Jean, and the radiant wife that I once told 'im was far out of 'is reach is Apolline." Jean's lips twitched as he shook hands with Harry far more firmly than Flamel had. Harry greeted Apolline in much the same way he had Perenelle, marvelling at the softness of her skin as his lips brushed against it. "These two shining stars are the youngest of the Delacour family." Flamel said, prompting the two radiant teens to curtsy perfectly to Harry, who quickly bowed in return. "The one in blue is the family's 'eiress, Fleur Delacour." He smiled with a different kind of fondness at the final Delacour. "This young beauty is 'er twin sister, younger by only several minutes, Gabrielle."

There was a moment where Harry's brain froze. This would be who was guiding him through the night's affairs? His gratitude for Dumbledore's warnings only intensified as he greeted both of the Delacour twins properly.

"Albus," Flamel addressed Dumbledore, "would you mind terribly staying to chat as we greet our guests?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Why, it would be my pleasure, my friend."

Nicholas nodded in a satisfied sort of way. "Gabrielle, my dear, can you escort Mr. Potter into the ballroom and keep 'im company while we wait for the festivities to begin?" Harry's brows rose for just a second. He was a bit surprised that Flamel would not want his apparent protege with him to greet the influx of guests to come. He supposed that if she was not the Heiress, it wasn't really necessary. Perhaps he viewed gaining knowledge about Harry more important? That was an odd sort of thought that seriously made him rethink his place within the magical world.

"Of course, 'oncle." Gabrielle said politely. Even her voice was angelic. It was smooth and refined, yet soft and musical all at once. Then, she offered Harry a positively radiant smile that could have blinded him before stepping up beside him. Harry realized it was probably a good idea to offer his arm just in time, and she took it, leading him out of the entrance hall and down a long, ancient looking corridor. The position was a bit awkward since she was so much taller than Harry. He was of average height for his age and she was quite tall by any standards for a woman, but it worked.

Harry tried to think of something to say, something to break the ice but he had nothing. Thankfully, the other girl seemed more socially aware than him, something that was probably meant to be obvious judging by their dynamic this evening.

"Is this your first time in France?"

Harry had to take a moment to answer, almost taken aback by the question. "It's my first time anywhere out of England." He told her as he glanced from side to side, trying to keep track of the dazzling displays of art that had been hung on the walls. "I think this may be the most beautiful place I've ever been to though."

The girl's eyebrows rose. "Is 'ogwarts not beautiful?"

"It is." Harry admitted, trying to figure out the best way of wording it. "It's beautiful in a different way though. Hogwarts is… more impressive than beautiful, I guess. It's the sort of place that takes your breath away because of its aura more than how it looks." He ran the hand that was not entangled with Gabrielle's arm through his hair. "Does that make sense? It's kind of hard to explain."

Gabrielle nodded slowly. "I think it does." She said. "I 'ave never been to 'ogwarts, but I 'ave seen pictures. It seems as if it was built to stand against sieges, not to be beautiful."

Harry nodded. "That's a good way of putting it, yeah. You're a Beauxbatons student, right?" It was her turn to nod. "Fourth year?"

Her lips twitched. "You are well informed, 'arry Potter. One may think you were asking the Chief Warlock questions about me."

Harry had to fight hard not to blush, but he was pretty sure he mostly beat it. "Is being curious such a bad thing?" He asked, earning himself a genuine smile along with a light, musical laugh. In this moment, he internally thanked Daphne for her teasing demeanour. Had it not become a custom of theirs, he was not even remotely sure he would have reacted appropriately in that situation.

"This may not be as difficult as I was afraid of." She told him, almost seeming to relax. When Harry looked confused, she enlightened him. "I was testing you, 'arry." She paused. "May I call you 'arry?" When he nodded, she continued. "I was trying to see 'ow easily flustered you would become."

"I honestly didn't realize you were doing that." He admitted.

She crooked a perfect eyebrow. "You reacted very well zen."

Harry studied her. "You seem way too good at this stuff for somebody who is fifteen."

She gave him a piercing look just as they entered a ballroom that was nearly as large as the entrance hall and every bit as ostentatious. Again, gold was present everywhere as Gabrielle led him towards the front most table. "I would not 'ave expected you to ask zat question." She told him, and when Harry didn't reply, she pressed on. "Were you not told that you should not be able to make a 'ogwarts Quidditch team at the age of eleven?"

Harry stiffened for the briefest of moments in surprise. Then, he realized something that felt a bit off. He had never even felt the impulse to flinch when linking arms with her. It was certainly an impulse that was becoming less pronounced, but that was still a bit odd. "Touché." He conceded. "That seems a lot easier than politics though." As he said this, he stepped around her, releasing her arm and pulling out a chair for her, earning himself a brief but glowing smile as he took the seat opposite her.

"I do not think ze two can be compared in terms of difficulty." She said after a moment of thought. "Zey are both very difficult in different ways. It all depends on personality, upbringing, interests." She shrugged, folding her hands as she peered across the table at him. "You are obviously quite good at Quidditch, so of course it would seem easy to you. I 'ave never been particularly interested in flying, so Quidditch seems impossible for me."

Harry nodded slowly; it made sense. "Fair enough. How did you know about that, anyways?"

Gabrielle tilted her head questioningly. "'ow did I know about what?"

"Me being on the Quidditch team at eleven and that it was sort of a big deal."

Again, her lips twitched. "You are so not what I expected," she said with an easy smile, "but at ze same time, you are everything that I expected you to be." When his frown deepened, she elaborated. "Most people would not act like you do if zey were famous from the age of a year old. Zey certainly would not shrug off being ze youngest Quidditch player in a 'undred years. Yet, if I am correct, you are in Gryffindor 'ouse?" He nodded. "Which is the 'ouse of bravery and chivalry?" He nodded again, and Gabrielle twirled a strand of platinum hair thoughtfully around her finger as if thinking. "Modesty could be considered a chivalrous trait, so in that sense, it was expected."

Harry was a bit taken aback. "And you said I was well informed?"

"All kinds of news outlets ran stories about you when you became ze youngest seeker in a century." Harry's eyes widened at that. He had never known, and now Gabrielle looked a bit surprised. "You did not know?" He shook his head and she frowned. "Yes, it was not front page news in France as I'm sure it was in England, but it also was not very far off. Most people around ze world who get ze paper will have known about it." She smiled. "And I enjoy reading. I 'onestly don't remember when I read about the 'ogwarts 'ouses, but it is something I 'ave always found interesting."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "It's certainly something." He mused, not quite sure how to even begin to explain the complexities of the house dynamics.

"Do you think it is a good thing?" Gabrielle asked him, and Harry found himself taken aback

"The houses?" She nodded and he furrowed his brow. "I've… never actually thought about it, to tell you the truth. It's just something that's such a huge part of Hogwarts that nobody really questions it."

Gabrielle was twirling her hair again. "That is not surprising." She told him. "I suppose everything is easier to think about from an outside perspective."

"Do you think the houses are a good idea?" Harry asked, curious if she actually had a stance on the matter. He enjoyed hearing her talk. He couldn't put his finger on why, but she was bright and insightful in a way that he did not see very often.

She pursed her lips. "No, I don't." She answered honestly. Harry had to applaud her bluntness. If she was worried about offending him, she didn't show it. Harry gave her a curious look, so she continued. "First of all, there is a 'uge problem with sorting children who are eleven years old. There is so much development left for them to do. Zey are nowhere near ze people zey will be in a few years, let alone in seven." Harry nodded thoughtfully. That was a fair point. "Zere is also the issue of sorting by personality traits." She continued. "If you are sorted into a 'ouse with people who 'ave all of the same traits you do, how are you supposed to evolve? Being like minded is ok, but if you are surrounded by people with your same strengths and weaknesses all ze time, you will never grow as a person." She wrinkled her nose. "It can also cause… problems if a 'ouse gains a certain reputation, I would guess."

"You mean Slytherin." Harry asked bluntly.

Gabrielle frowned. "I suppose, but it was a general statement. From what I know, it seems like Slytherin is that 'ouse right now, but who is to say it won't be one of the others in a few decades? All it would take is for a dark lord or lady to rise from one of the other 'ouses and cultivate ze next few generations." She shrugged. "Gellert Grindelwald changed the views of countries in a few years. It's not so unreasonable that the views of a 'ouse could be changed as long as the main traits were upheld." When she saw the slightly awed look on Harry's face, she looked a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry," she told him, "I am rambling. I 'ave a habit of looking too far into things sometimes."

"Don't apologize," Harry said genuinely, "that was actually really interesting. It was just a lot to take in at once. I've… never thought of it like that. I've never even heard anybody bring up any of those points."

She looked a bit surprised, but oddly pleased. "It's all about perspective." She reiterated. "An outside perspective is more reliable a lot of the time."

"Can I ask you a question and have you answer completely honestly?" He asked carefully.

Gabrielle frowned. "That depends on ze question." She said reasonably.

"It's nothing personal to you." He assured her. "A few minutes ago, you said I was exactly what you expected but also not? Could you explain that a bit more?" She looked a bit surprised and he shrugged. "When you were talking about perspectives, it made me think about it."

Gabrielle appraised him. "I expected somebody with a good 'eart, good manners, and all of the rest." She told him. "But 'onestly, I expected you to be more… flamboyant? Is that ze right word?" She frowned. "I think it is. I expected you to be a bit louder, not in volume but in output?" She scowled in a way that was somehow still attractive. "Zis is difficult to explain. But I expected you to be less quiet, less reserved and if you want me to be completely 'onest, less modest than what you seem." She studied him. "Of course, you could be acting, but I don't think so."

Harry frowned. "I guess that would make sense." He said carefully. "I'm assuming you thought I'd be less modest and such because of my fame?" The way he said the last two words made them sound like they were an illness and Gabrielle's eyebrow rose again.

"Yes." Gabrielle said honestly. "You are not though." She assured him. "At least from what I can see." She frowned. "You are actually the opposite, it seems. You do not like the attention, do you?"

Harry sighed. "Not particularly, no. I'm… slowly getting better with it, I think."

"Can I ask you a more personal question?" Gabrielle asked him. She had to resist a frown when she practically watched Harry's posture become more defensive and closed off.

"That depends on the question." He quoted her, managing a small smile at his quip.

She looked surprised for a second before rolling her eyes. "I do not need details, but is it safe to assume you grew up away from your fame?"

Harry's eyes widened. "How did you-" then he stopped, realizing he had just given away the answer.

Gabrielle seemed to catch his slip up, for she smiled kindly. "It's ok," she assured him, "zat was probably a bit of an unexpected question, and you did not give away anything important." She frowned. "If you would not like zat information to be public though, you should be prepared for questions about your childhood. I am sure zey will be asked tonight." When she saw him become a bit uncomfortable, she spoke again. "I will not tell anybody." She promised. "And I will try and keep conversations away from zat topic ze best I can, though I will probably only be able to delay those kinds of questions."

Harry sighed. He was sure that her promise of not sharing information probably did not extend onto Flamel, but if Dumbledore trusted him so completely, he doubted he would do anything nefarious with the information. "Thank you," he said a bit awkwardly. That was another thing he was working on. He hadn't had a whole lot to genuinely thank people for growing up and it still came across as a bit awkward when he did it now. "Not just for that but for… you know, hopefully helping me not make a fool out of myself and all. I'm sure there are better things you could be doing tonight."

Gabrielle laughed again and Harry could practically feel warmth spread through his body at the sound. He did not understand why she was having this kind of effect on him. "You are not zat bad." She told him. "When I first said I would 'elp you, I was worried, but you do not need that much 'elp. Just to know when not to speak and maybe a bit of subtlety. And it is no bother, 'arry. My sister Fleur is ze Delacour 'eiress, so she will be doing most of ze politicking tonight. I will 'ave to drag you along with me to do some, but not too much, I don't think. Besides," she said with a small grin, "I wanted to meet you."

Harry could not help but look surprised. "Why did you want to meet me?" He asked her.

"Well," she said, smirking at him a bit coyly, "you are quite famous. I am sure many of my classmates would wish to be in my position." When she saw that Harry would argue that statement, she shook her head, smirking wider still as a mischievous glint gleamed in her eye. "Oh, you are still so innocent, 'arry. Do not argue, it is true. If it makes you feel any better though, I don't really care about your fame. I 'ad other reasons for wanting to meet you."

Before she could explain further, the sound of many voices began to draw close to the ball room and moments later, dozens of finely dressed witches and wizards began filtering into the ballroom, signifying the beginning of the evening's true activities. Eventually, Dumbledore, as well as the Flamels and Delacours entered the room and took seats at the same table as Harry and Gabrielle. Dumbledore took the seat to Harry's immediate left, which was the seat at the end of the table, not counting Nicholas Flamel who sat at the head, with Perenellee between himself and Gabrielle. Jean Delacour took the seat to Harry's right, as her sister, Fleur, took the seat on Gabrielle's other side. A few minutes later, when the rest of the crowd had settled, Flamel swept to his feet and gave a ringing speech about the prospers of the up and coming new year and what this next day signified. It was well done and when he sat down, blank plates appeared in front of everybody, as well as what appeared to be menus.

When Harry shot a sideways glance at Dumbledore, obviously confused, the man smiled, before glancing at his own menu and then down towards the plate in front of him. "Roast beef and mashed potatoes with a bit of extra gravy, perhaps." He said clearly and in the next second, exactly that had appeared on his plate. Harry's eyes widened for a brief moment before he began skimming his menu. "Your house elves never fail to impress." Dumbledore told Flamel, who smiled widely.

"It is wonderful what 'ouse elves are capable of when treated with some fundamental compassion." The man responded. "Any being will always act more efficiently when they do so under their free will. Magic is marvellous, but it can only accomplish so much, no?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye, glancing towards Harry, "I assume you are remembering the same conversation that I am?" Harry doubted the man would have been so forward if the tables were not so small. He obviously trusted the Flamels and he supposed by extension that he trusted the Delacours.

"The one where we compared different kinds of magic and their impact?" He asked and Dumbledore nodded, smiling. Harry frowned. "Yeah, I do. Not my finest moment."

"Oh, I don't know." Dumbledore said cheerfully once he swallowed his bit of beef. "Your initial hypothesis may have been shortsighted, but your thinking became much more insightful as the conversation progressed."

"May I ask what was being discussed?" Flamel interjected, leaning forward a margin, as if interested. When Harry hesitated, Dumbledore took the lead.

"If memory serves me correctly, we were speaking about the sorts of things that Occlumency can negate at the highest of levels. To make a long story far less convoluted, the topic of memory charms was broached. When discussing their evil, the question of why they were not classified as 'dark' came up, and Harry made a passing comment that he could understand them not being 'unforgivable', but that he thought they should have been classified as 'dark magic'." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "From there, we covered a wide range of topics, starting with the comparison of those curses to the memory charm."

Harry saw Gabrielle's sister narrow her eyes a bit, and the elder Delacours too looked surprised. If Flamel was at all surprised he didn't show it as he looked towards Harry and addressed him directly. "And what, if any lessons did you take from that conversation, if you do not mind my asking?"

Harry furrowed his brow, taken aback by the question. "To not think so shortsightedly, I guess."

Flamel nodded almost encouragingly. "Elaborate."

Harry took a bite of his own food to give himself time to think, chewing slowly before answering. "Well, I think one of the first things I said was that nothing could be worse than the killing curse."

Flamel nodded solemnly as a rather dark air fell upon the table. "Given your circumstances, it is not an unreasonable statement for one as young as yourself to 'ave made. I suppose you saw the flaws in it with time?" He chuckled. "Or, Albus pointed them out, more likely."

Harry nodded slowly. "The killing curse seems the worst because it does the most physical damage right away. I was thinking of 'worst' specific to a moment. Professor Dumbledore brought up all of the things somebody could do with the memory charm. Possibly altering somebody's mind if they were skilled enough." He shrugged, a bit sheepish. "That was also sort of how he debunked the Imperius Curse by comparison."

Flamel nodded. "There is nothing more valuable than the mind." He said wisely. "Any magic that taints such a pure and essential thing is always more 'einous than any magic that simply damages the mind's container." Harry had never thought of it like that.

He looked questioningly at Dumbledore, who nodded. "As I have told you in the past, curiosity is not a sin, Harry. I am sure that Nicholas is open to questions on his most intriguing thesis." When Flamel nodded, Harry pressed on.

"Would that apply to Legilimency as well, sir? I'm just asking because reading a mind is bad and all, but you're not altering it, are you?"

Flamel took a sip of his drink before responding. "Legilimency is a very broad field of magic, my child. For most people, your statement 'olds true. Most never manage true Legilimency." When he could see that Harry looked a bit confused, he elaborated. "Many just think of Legilimency as a way to read minds, but in the 'ands of a true master, it is so much more than just that. In its purest form, true Legilimency can be summarized as mental manipulation of another person. Some call it the opposite of Occlumency and many purists of mind magic shoot that claim down, but it is not actually too far from the truth. Where Occlumency is the mastery and manipulation of your own mind, Legilimency is the same concept, but applied to other people."

"Wait," Harry said cautiously, "so if you were a master of Legilimency, you could actually change the way somebody thinks? And I don't mean just by pulling up their worst memories and making them feel a certain way, or anything like that."

Flamel nodded. "You could, yes but of course, it would depend on the target's skill with Occlumency." He glanced at Dumbledore. "Albus was always a more talented Legilimens than I, where I believe I outshine 'im in the field of Occlumency. We are a good balance, one might say."

"As Nicholas put it," Dumbledore picked it up, "the scope of Legilimency is near limitless. I could feed you emotions that were not yours. I could twist and warp your memories. I could even insert fake memories that, unlike a memory charm, would be most unfortunately undetectable. Truly, Legilimency is a weapon that is limited only by its wielder's creativity."

'Well that's terrifying.'

"You 'ave been learning Occlumency?" Flamel asked him rhetorically. Harry knew the man already knew this, but politely nodded anyways. "'ow far have you come?"

And that led them into a discussion of Occlumency and the advantages and disadvantages of the techniques Harry had been taught so far. It seemed as if he had a very, very long way to go in the field but of course, Harry had been well aware of that fact already. Flamel was similar to Dumbledore in many ways. He was not quite as eccentric on the surface and did not seem to dance around questions and points in the same way Dumbledore did. Despite that, they both had a way of speaking that was oddly similar, and Harry had to wonder if it was Flamel himself who Dumbledore had picked all of it up from.

To Harry's surprise, the next person to snap him out of his musings was not Dumbledore, nor was it Flamel, nor was it the beautiful girl who he had enjoyed conversation with as recently as a few minutes ago. Instead, it was Jean Delacour.

"Do you know of the Delacour family, Mr. Potter?"

Harry paused, searching his bank of memories for an answer. The question may have seemed innocuous, but Harry sensed there was some sort of deeper reason for asking the question. "I can't say I do, sir." Harry answered apologetically. "I haven't gotten too far into politics and such yet, you see."

Something made itself present in Jean Delacour's eyes, but it was gone rather quickly. "There is no need to sound sorry." The man said with a rather sad rendition of a smile. "I 'ad 'oped you would know based on our shared history, but your circumstances were rather different."

Harry's pulse quickened. "Did you know my parents, sir?"

"Not too well." Jean admitted. "I did meet James on a number of occasions, but I never met Lily. I knew your grandfather well though. I saw quite a lot of 'im in my younger years and we kept in contact until the end." The man's face became grim. "It was a shame to find out what 'appened to him."

Harry realized with a mixture of shame and surprise that he had no idea how his grandfather had died, just that he had done so before the conclusion of the war. Harry thought revealing his ignorance probably wasn't the best idea, but he made a mental note to look that up as soon as possible.

"How did you know him, sir?"

If Jean was surprised that Harry didn't know, he gave none of it away. "My father Pierre was very close with 'im. They fought together near the conclusion of the war against Grindelwald and formed a sort of bond both in the political arena and in everyday social life." Jean pierced Harry in much the same way his younger daughter had earlier. "I would be 'appy to tell you more about 'im anytime. Whether it be in person or through letters, though I will be quite busy tonight."

Harry nodded. He figured this was a sort of lure in order to keep Harry interested, possibly even gain his correspondence but he didn't care. If it would get him information about his family, it was a price he was willing to pay. Besides, he didn't think anything nefarious would come of the whole situation. Just then, the desserts vanished and soft, clear music began to play through the ballroom. As everybody got to their feet, the tables all whisked themselves into the corners of the room as the floor opened up for both dancing and politicking.

Before Harry knew it, he had the tall, beautiful blonde girl at his side once more. "Would you care to dance?" She asked him, looking almost hopeful.

Harry resisted the urge to frown. Dancing was not high on his list of favourite things to do. For one thing, he was remarkably out of practice. He had not kept up on the practice after the Greengrass ball almost a year ago and over the last few days, Augusta had been far too busy grilling him on politics to even begin to consider dancing. "You could probably find a better partner." He said honestly. "I'm very out of practice."

Gabrielle just smiled right back at him. "I quite enjoy dancing." She admitted. "I think I am plenty good enough for ze both of us, if you would do me the 'onour?" Harry suddenly found himself trapped. He could dance with her, or he could risk upsetting somebody who had gone out of their way to help him. It was also more than a little bit difficult to look into those enchanting blue eyes and not agree.

"If you're sure." He answered a bit hesitantly, earning himself the most radiant smile yet from Gabrielle as she surprised Harry greatly by taking a tight grip on his hand and leading him onto the dance floor. Thankfully, she led them into a rather crowded part of said floor. Clearly, she had not forgotten about his dislike of attention, and he was quite grateful for the fact.

As Harry placed his hand on her hip and began to move along with her, he realized she had not been teasing him. She really was easily good enough for the both of them. He was out of practice, as evident by the fact that the steps felt a bit awkward. It was also rather different dancing with Gabrielle than Daphne. Daphne had been tall for an eleven year old girl, but there was much more of a difference in height between Harry and Gabrielle due to the gap in their ages. Still, dancing with her was… easy. When she first stepped close to him, there was a moment where he had tensed a bit, moving stiffly for the first few motions. Then he felt… something? It was an odd, content feeling that seemed to massage his brain pleasantly and without even realizing it, the tension left him completely. He had no impulse to pull away from Gabrielle or tense up. Miraculously, he found himself actually enjoying the motions, awkward as they felt. It also helped that Gabrielle had not been bluffing.

Harry had thought Daphne a good dancer, and she undoubtedly was, but she could not hold a candle to Gabrielle Delacour in the art of dance. Daphne was a very good dancer. Her movements were obviously well practiced and it seemed as if she would never make a mistake. Gabrielle, on the other hand, seemed as if she had simply been born to move in this way. It did not even seem as if she had to consider the movements, and it was as if she was simply part of the music, moving in perfect time and effortlessly guiding Harry along with her. It was not just unlikely she would ever make a mistake, the very thought seemed utterly impossible. In spite of himself, Harry was in awe of her by the time the song ended and she smiled gratefully at him before leading him off of the dance floor, not dropping his hand until they were out of the crowd of people.

"Thank you for that." She told him genuinely. "I really do adore dancing and you are not as bad as you made it seem."

Harry blushed a bit. "Having you as a partner helped." He said quietly, trying not to blush even more. "I thought you were joking about being good enough for both of us."

Gabrielle laughed softly. "Non, I practiced dance very strictly from ze time I was three years old until quite recently. I still practice, just not as frequently as I did when I was younger."

Harry nodded. "That makes sense, you're… uh, very good at it."

She smiled softly. "Don't stutter, 'arry. It is counter productive, and zere is no reason to stutter when saying something so simple."

He fought hard against his blush but was pretty sure he only partially managed to beat it. "Care for a drink?" Harry asked, spotting a nearby table full of them. Gabrielle nodded and he made to pull them towards the table but before he could, two glasses of water floated themselves towards them. When Harry turned to Gabrielle, she seemed to be lowering her hand. He blinked; he hadn't even seen her withdraw her wand. That must have been done very quickly. When she caught his look of surprise, she smiled in an oddly smug sort of way, but she did not elaborate.

"You should use magic for things like zat." She told him. "It's like a muscle. Ze more you use it, ze stronger it gets and the easier it is to do things with it. Doing everyday tasks with it is a really good way of building magical memory. It can also be a fun little challenge for some things."

Harry had never thought of day to day tasks like they were training, but it made sense. He supposed that his muggle raised instincts had instilled the impulse to do things manually when presented with the opportunity. "That was non verbal." He told her. "That's fairly advanced, isn't it?"

Gabrielle shrugged. "I 'ave been casting pretty much everything non verbally for a while now. It really isn't zat difficult once you get ze general feel for it." Harry wondered how long "awhile was" but he never got the opportunity to ask. Just then, a man in a rather splendid set of red robes approached them and entered into a rather rapid conversation with Gabrielle. To Harry's shock, it was held mostly in a language he did not understand. It definitely wasn't French either. Near the end of the conversation, when Gabrielle introduced Harry to the man, who turned out to be the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, he figured it was probably Bulgarian. How or why Gabrielle knew how to speak Bulgarian, Harry had absolutely no idea. Harry shared a brief conversation with the man as well, with Gabrielle interjecting when necessary. He spoke in thickly accented English, but it was not so accented that Harry couldn't understand him. When he left, he peered at Gabrielle curiously.

"You know how to speak Bulgarian?"

"I actually learned 'ow to speak Bulgarian before I learned to speak English." She told him with a coy smile. "I can also speak Russian."

Harry blinked. "That's… really impressive, but was there any specific reason for learning so many languages?"

Gabrielle studied him closely. "Politics," she answered vaguely, "maybe I'll explain it more later if we 'ave time, but we should make ze most of zis event first."

And make the most of said event they did.

Harry met the Ministers of Russia, Germany, Sweden, Japan and America. Gabrielle held another conversation with the Russian minister, longer even than the one with his Bulgarian counterpart. Most of the other ministers seemed more interested in Harry, though they did all seem to know who Gabrielle was. They spoke a bit with him about Hogwarts and inquired about his education. He tried his best to find a balance between being impressive but not being boastful. Annoyingly, Gabrielle had been right. Most everybody who they met wanted to know about Harry's childhood. Where had he been raised? Why was he not at these events earlier? Why was it only now that he was here? What had changed? Had he known Dumbledore from an early age? It was not just the ministers that asked these questions either. It was politicians, business owners, and more.

By the time they had been at it for nearly three hours, Harry was growing annoyed with the questions about his childhood. He was running out of deflections and the constant questions were wearing on his patience. Evidently, Gabrielle noticed, for after a conversation with the owner of an upstart American broom company called Firebolt, a conversation Harry had been enthralled by until his childhood came up, Gabrielle politely excused the two of them by claiming to need some fresh air as she led him from the ball room.

When they left the ballroom, Gabrielle led them down a different side corridor than the one they had come down previously. Then, she tapped a positively stunning painting of a coastline with her wand, causing it to swing aside and admit them access to a narrow passageway that led to a glass door leading out of the manor and onto the jaw dropping grounds. As soon as they stepped outside, Harry took a deep, centering breath, exalting in the beautiful sea breeze that seemed to caress his skin gently as they walked.

"Thanks," he told her, "that was getting old very fast." He winced. "Sorry if I acted immature or anything. I probably shouldn't have let it bother me, but,"

"Hush," Gabrielle told him, surprising Harry greatly by gently touching her finger to his lips for a second before lowering it. "You don't need to worry about your reaction, 'arry. You were flustered, but you were still polite and you said nothing wrong." She frowned. "It is quite invasive for politicians to ask a twelve year old boy about his upbringing, especially when 'e clearly doesn't want to talk about it. Harry waited for the questions that he viewed as inevitable. For Gabrielle to ask him why the question bothered him so much, or something of the sort, but she never did, instead she made a smooth effort to divert the conversation.

"Let's talk about something more innocent, yes?" Harry nodded. "Which subject is your favourite at 'ogwarts?"

Harry actually had to pause and consider that. "Transfiguration or Defense Against The Dark Arts." He told her. "I spend quite a bit of time practicing Defense, but I find Transfiguration really interesting as well." Gabrielle nodded. "What about you?"

"Charms is easily my favourite." She told him. "It is also what I am best at, so I'm sure zat plays a part. I also enjoy Transfiguration and I 'ave been told I am rather good at Defense, but I only really care for bits of the subject. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes are also very interesting."

"We don't start those until third year." Harry said with a sigh.

Gabrielle raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Harry paused. "I'm… actually not sure. Because they're complicated, I guess? Maybe the founders just thought it was best for students to get a base first?"

Gabrielle hummed in thought. "I 'ave heard that 'ogwarts is a very good school." She said. "It rarely produces anything but competent witches and wizards." Harry nodded, he had been told for ages that it was one of the very best schools in the world. "I do not think it is the best for talented witches and wizards like you and I though."

Harry blinked at the sudden change of pace. "You and I?"

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. "You can't fool me, 'arry. I noticed your 'abit of understatement in a few minutes after meeting you. If you are telling all of zese politicians that you managed ze top grade in most of your subjects, you must be better zan you have even told zem." Harry flushed a bit at being caught out so easily. Gabrielle hid a giggle behind her hand. "You blush at the silliest things." She told him. "You must learn 'ow to take a compliment. You will be getting a lot of zem in ze next few years."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, even though he suspected that Gabrielle had a point. "I'll… keep that in mind." He told her. "What did you mean about Hogwarts not being the best for more talented students?"

"Like I Said, 'ogwarts rarely produces anything but competent witches and wizards. From what I 'ave been told by you and others, 'ogwarts teaches students in a way zat is very difficult not to understand. Zey start very simple and work their way up, not just in content but in classes." She shrugged. "At Beauxbatons, we start Ancient Runes and Arithmancy in first year. Many students do not do well in the class, quite a few even fail. But zose of us who do well are much, much better for it. Zose two subjects explain a lot about how magic works. Just on that, zose of us who do well probably understand magic more after our first year zan most 'ogwarts students do at the end of their second year. Zose two subjects are two of the foundational branches of magic" She shrugged. "It seems like the main goal of 'ogwarts is to produce as many competent witches and wizards as possible. At Beauxbatons, the school's goal is to produce as many outstanding pupils as zey can. If you cannot keep up at Beauxbatons, zat is your own problem but if you can, you are usually quite advanced by the end of school."

Harry mulled that over in his brain. Gabrielle seemed to have a habit of bringing things to his attention he had never thought of before. Perhaps it was just their age difference, but Harry suspected it was more than that. "That actually sounds like a pretty accurate description." He admitted. "I wish we had started Runes and Arithmancy right away."

"You will take zem next year?"

He nodded. "I've… already sort of started learning them on my own time, but I'll take the classes next year, yes."

Gabrielle smiled. "See? Is it so difficult to admit you are ahead in something?" Harry fought hard not to blush. He didn't completely succeed, but he mostly managed. "You are learning." Gabrielle told him with a light laugh. "You should be proud of your accomplishments, 'arry, not 'ide zem. You should not be boastful, but it is not a bad thing to admit to being very good at something as long as you are 'onest. Take me, by example." She told him. "Did I not tell you I was a very good dancer before we danced?" He nodded. "And was I not telling the truth? I was not overstating my abilities, was I?" He shook his head. "Yet I do not think zat you view me as any less for stating the truth?"

Harry shook his head again. "Touche, I guess." He told her with a weak smile.

Gabrielle returned it. "Let's practice, shall we? 'ow good are you actually in the wanded subjects?"

Harry shrugged, looking a bit sheepish again. "I… don't actually know how to answer that question." He admitted.

"I can think of a way." Gabrielle said with a small smile, pulling her wand from her sleeve smoothly and twirling it between her fingers. "Let's see for how long you can keep up, oui?" With a lazy flick of her wand, Gabrielle conjured a sparkling dinner plate. Then, with another wave, the plate split apart into a flock of birds. Harry had no idea how to conjure a plate like that, but he knew the spell she had used to create the birds was Avifors. With another twitch of her wand, she created a second plate and held it in front of her, raising an almost challenging eyebrow expectantly.

Harry summoned his wand from his holster with a well practiced flick of his wrist. He saw Gabrielle appraising the implement, but he didn't comment. "Avifors." He incanted, waving his wand and creating a flock of birds almost identical to the one Gabrielle had a moment earlier. If he was feeling a bit braver, or perhaps if this had not been the first task she had come up with, he may have tried the spell non verbally. As it was, he had only practiced a few spells that way, and almost none of them focused on visualization. He would rather not look like a fool in the first round.

Gabrielle graced him with a smile before she conjured two small, silver hairpins. She held them both in the palm of her hand before pointing her wand, turning one of them into another large flock of birds. She held her hand out in front of him. "Do you know why this will be more difficult even though it is the same spell?"

Harry thought for a moment. "There are two reasons, right?" She nodded encouragingly. "The main one is that you transfigured something very small into something a lot bigger. You created more matter out of less matter, which is harder than last time because it was about equal from plate to birds."

"Mmhm." She said, clearly enjoying this.

"You also didn't use a wand movement." He frowned. I've never actually tried this spell without wand movements. I've only really done that for the spells that I think are more useful." He pointed his wand and focused hard, imploring every bit of Supplementary Occlumency he could on his intent. "Avifors." To his relief, it worked even without the wand movement. The flock was maybe one or two birds less than what Gabrielle had conjured, but if she noticed that, she didn't comment. Honestly, Harry was just happy he had managed it without the wand movement, even if he was a bit annoyed how easily she had bested him. That wasn't even taking into account the fact she had yet to speak an incantation aloud.

"Well zat was a very good first attempt." Gabrielle told him. "Let's make zis a little bit more difficult." She waved her wand and conjured two rocks. One was dull, grey, and shapeless. The other was shaped like a bird and painted red. Then, with a wave of her wand, the two rocks switched easily.

Harry sighed, this one he could do; he had practiced for ages before the feast. "Regimo." He said lazily, smirking at Gabrielle as he effortlessly switched them back.

She raised an eyebrow. "'ow is it zat you were worried about no wand movements for a second year spell yet you effortlessly used almost none for a fourth year spell?"

"Like I said, I've practiced some stuff without wand movements." He shrugged. "That spell's kind of a long story."

She sighed. "Right, hmm… let's see, something more difficult." She pointed her wand at one of the two rocks, and it promptly vanished.

Harry thought for a moment before shaking his head. "I'm out," he told her with a sigh, "I have no idea what the incantation is, let alone how to do it."

Gabrielle smiled as she waved her wand, vanishing the other rock. "Zat was a late fifth year spell, so I am not surprised. The incantation is Evanesco, if you were interested." She appraised him. "Zat was very impressive." She said honestly. "So you are somewhere in ze fourth year curriculum for Transfiguration, it seems?"

"I'm hoping to finish it by Easter, but we'll see."

"What about in Charms?"

Harry grinned. "You really do like your charms, don't you? I'm not as far in Charms. I think I have the third year curriculum done, but I'm not too far into the fourth year one."

Gabrielle thought for a moment before raising her wand. A second later, a rather beautiful sea shell flew into her outstretched hand. She peered curiously at Harry.

"I know it's the summoning charm," he told her, "I've read about it, but I've never actually tried it." He smirked, as he aimed his wand. "I can do this though." With barely a flick in the direction of the sea shell resting on Gabrielle's palm, he incanted. "Depulso." The sea shell rocketed out of Gabrielle's hand and was sent splashing back into the ocean.

She mock glared at him. "Zat was not very gentlemanly of you." She told him with a pout. "Zat shell was quite pretty, I 'ad been 'oping to keep it." With a devious smirk, Gabrielle flicked her wand and sent a stinging hex towards Harry. Fortunately, she did so rather slowly, making sure to let Harry see exactly what she was doing. Thanks to that telegraph, Harry managed to prepare and, at the last second, he batted the spell back towards a very surprised Gabrielle. She still dodged easily, but she was now giving him a rather appraising look. "Spell deflection, 'arry?" She asked suggestively. "Zat is a rather advanced skill."

"I know," he said, for once allowing a rare bit of pride to show in his voice. "That one took me months to figure out. I still can't deflect some more powerful stuff with it, but it's a start."

"One might think you are trying to become a duelist." Gabrielle said suggestively, slowly firing a jelly legs jinx towards Harry, which he also managed to deflect in her general direction.

"I have my reasons." He told her.

"I am sure you do." She responded. "I wonder if all of ze spells you 'ave practiced more fall into the combat range of spells?" Her lips turned upwards. "The banishing hex is quite the useful spell in a duel, after all."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe," he said with a grin, this whole game of hers was more fun than he would have suspected. He really did love magic!

She smirked arrogantly at him, twirling in an effortless pirouette. "A shame you would never stand a chance against moi until you learn to cast without speaking." Harry was oddly tempted to fire a non verbal banishing hex her way, but he thought that would be very, very overkill.

He raised his wand and concentrated hard, drawing her attention as he did so. A second later, the tip of his wand lit and Gabrielle actually looked surprised for the first time in the conversation.

"Magnifique!" She told him, smiling brightly as she actually clapped her hands several times in congratulations. Harry allowed his light to die out just as Gabrielle gave him a more calculating stare. "You are full of surprises, Monsieur Potter." She smirked as she twirled her wand. "One more round," she said, "no speaking the incantation." She deliberately swished and flicked her wand, levitating a fairly large rock up out of the shallows and floating it a bit out onto the beach before allowing it to hover, looking at him expectantly.

He bit his lip. "I've… never tried anything like the levitation charm non verbally." He admitted. The banishing hex was probably the closest, but he only really needed to maintain concentration for a second or so.

Gabrielle gave him an encouraging smile, stepping up beside him as she peered curiously at the rock, still hovering. "Well," she said with a smile, resting a hand on his shoulder. Again, he found it odd how there was no immediate impulse to pull away. "Zere is no time like ze present to try, non?"

With a sigh, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated before swishing and flicking his wand towards the rock. He exaggerated the movement a bit, but it was intentional. Hopefully, it would help him with this. He figured he could probably do the spell non verbally, but maintaining it would be a problem, especially due to the weight of the rock.

Slowly, he felt control of the rock shift from Gabrielle to him. He was doing it! It had dipped a bit towards the ground, but it was still levitating. Concentrating, Harry tried to float it more towards the two of them. It slowly drifted towards them. Harry was surprised he had managed even that but just as he thought that, it began to tilt to the side and he was sure he was about to lose it. Then, he felt control rested away from him, as Gabrielle floated it back gently into the water, clearly having seen that he was about to lose control.

"C'était incroyable!" Gabrielle said in rapid French, beaming down at Harry as she spoke. Her smile topped any so far, and Harry felt an odd fuzzy feeling cloud his brain for a moment or two before he took back control and smiled sheepishly back at her.

"That was actually kind of fun." He said just as Gabrielle giggled before sliding her arm through his and slowly leading him back up to the estate.

"Of course it was," she told him with a fond smile, "magic is incredible!"

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**December 24th 1992.**

**The Chamber of Secrets.**

**11:36 PM.**

As the girl's light footsteps echoed loudly in the tunnel leading to the chamber's entrance, Tom Marvolo Riddle reflected on what had so far been a rather successful year.

It had been so easy to get Ginny Weasley to open up to him. Once she had, she had set the inevitable into motion and Tom could feel himself growing stronger and stronger by the day as the girl grew weaker and weaker. That first day in Defense, when Tom had truly rested control away from Ginny for the first time to cast the spell that effortlessly dealt with the pixies, he had all of a sudden felt as if he had needed to sleep for days. As the months passed, however, Tom found it increasingly easy to spoon feed Ginny information and even take over from time to time. After all, he doubted very much that Ginny Weasley could have been so convincing when standing in front of Lockhart. The man admired her, or more realistically, his wand work and knowledge in Defense for certain, and it was blatantly obvious that he was trying to appease who he hoped to be a potential ally in the future, but he doubted Ginny Weasley, a young, foolish Gryffindor would have managed to get that permission slip.

A couple nights ago, Tom had even managed to take Ginny over completely while she was sleeping, a feat he was repeating now. Unfortunately, he had overdone it that night and had been completely out of it until early this morning. During that escapade, he had realized something.

For all of his talents, he could not instantly give Ginny Weasley a drastic boost in magical memory when it came to certain kinds of spells.

So that's what led him here, down to the Chamber in Ginny's body while the girl was fast asleep. It was time to practice.

Reaching into her pocket with her hand, Tom withdrew the pixie he had nudged her into nicking all those months ago as they entered the Chamber proper. It had not been hard. She had thought the creature was adorable but Tom knew it would be useful for things like this. Setting the creature down on the floor, Tom aimed Ginny's wand deliberately and began his practice.

"Cruicio!"

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**Author's Endnote:**

**I only realized the other day that I hadn't actually posted an overly long chapter yet in year 2. This one certainly qualifies, so I do hope you all enjoyed it.**

**One thing I do want to address. I'm sure some of you will be disappointed because you expected more Flamel. He will appear more at some point and eventually interact more directly with Harry, but now is not the time. Let's just say that Flamel had more selfish reasons for assigning Gabrielle to shadow Harry and leave it at that for now. If you want a small hint, let's just say he has learned from past mistakes.**

**On a semi related note, I did not introduce any major international characters outside of the Flamels and the ministers because at this point, they're the only ones I have fleshed out to appear in the future. That may or may not change as the story progresses, we will have to wait and see.**

**Also, I want to speak a bit about the timeline for this year. Frankly, the pacing of CoS in canon makes no sense. If you look at the HP lexicon, literally nothing happens between January 3rd and the middle of March. Then, pretty much everything happens between April and June. Frankly, I think this is foolish and am changing it. The main canon plot will actually wrap up probably sometime in March in this story, and the last three months will be sped through pretty quickly, but with a different, original plot thrown into the mix that will help setup year 3. **

**I just wanted to make that clear now so that everyone isn't surprised when the Chamber business is resolved two months early in this story. As you will see next chapter, Riddle is a bit more offensive in this fic. The pieces are falling into place far faster than in canon, which is another reason I have altered the timeline a bit.**

**Please read and review. **

**PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, June 7th at approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	29. LOS Ch 14: Conspiracies at Christmas

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Instagram aci100ff or by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

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**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 14: Conspiracies at Christmas.**

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**December 25th 1992.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**7:07 AM.**

Normally, if Neville, or anybody else for that matter, had run into Harry's room screaming "Merry Christmas" at the top of his lungs while Harry was still asleep, he'd probably have snatched his wand from under his pillow, leapt to his feet, and cursed the poor sod into oblivion. Of course, Harry would normally be wide awake at 7:00 in the morning, but alas, it was a rather irregular day.

Harry had not returned to the Longbottom's home until nearly 3:00 in the morning. Hell, by the time leaving had even been an option, he could barely stand. He had been mildly worried that he would fall fast asleep while standing next to Gabrielle.

* * *

**About Four Hours Earlier.**

**Domaine des Flamels.**

After returning inside with Gabrielle, Harry had braved yet another few hours in the shark infested waters of politics. Gabrielle had been more active in steering the conversations away from Harry's upbringing, which he had been very grateful for. Still, by the time midnight came around, he was completely spent. It had been a day that had been very full of mental stimulation, which led him to become even more tired than normal. Unfortunately for Harry, Dumbledore and Flamel were off politicking, or scheming new innovative uses of magic, or whatever the two most brilliant magical minds of the age did when the two of them met up. As a result, Harry braved politics for nearly two more hours. At that point, Gabrielle had realized he was little more than a walking corpse and decided that it was in his best interests to remove him from that environment.

They had gone for another walk in the grounds, though this one had been far less eventful than the first. When they had re-entered the ballroom, Gabrielle just led Harry onto the dance floor, being in the mindset that anything was better than a twelve year old boy playing at politics when half asleep. Much of the crowd had left by then, but quite a few had stayed behind. By this point, Harry was pretty much out of it, and he had essentially just allowed Gabrielle to drag him through the motions of several simple dances for a time that Harry could not even hope to specify.

Finally, at nearly 3:00 in the morning, when all but a few stragglers had vanished, Dumbledore and Flamel re-entered the ballroom. Fleur, Apolline and Jean were sitting at one of the tables in the corner too, but Apolline was actually asleep and Jean looked like he wasn't far off. Having been facing away from the entrance, Harry didn't see the two men enter but Gabrielle, looking over Harry's head did. Just then, the music ended and Gabrielle stopped their motion a bit too quickly for Harry's legs, which were simply too sluggish to catch up with the switch in pace. As a result, Harry literally tripped over his own feet and fell forwards. If he was more awake, he perhaps would have thought that it was a damn good thing that more people were not present but at that moment, his sluggish brain was just able to register the fact that the mistake may lead to a rather painful face-plant.

Fortunately, that rather embarrassing event never came to pass. Before Harry hit the floor, he felt his fall slow as he was enveloped in sudden warmth. When he realized it was a set of arms that were wrapped around him, he tensed for a brief moment.

"Shh." Gabrielle whispered, practically dragging Harry back up write as she clearly tried not to laugh. "It's ok, I've got you." Gabrielle promptly let go of Harry, just to step up beside him and wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close to her as to steady him. There was a mischievous gleam in Gabrielle's eyes as she slowly began to guide Harry towards Flamel and Dumbledore, who both smirked briefly before righting their expressions. "I think you 'ave 'ad too much to think about tonight." Gabrielle said in a lightly teasing tone.

"Mmhm." Harry said absently, trying to keep his eyes from falling shut. "That and it's… I don't even know what time it is."

"Almost three, I believe." Gabrielle said just as they neared Dumbledore and Flamel. The Delacours had stood to join them now, and oddly, Harry noticed that Gabrielle's sister, Fleur, was glaring at him. Currently, he had nowhere near the mental capacity to deal with that problem, so he just let it wash over him meaninglessly.

When they finally reached the figures gathered near the exit of the ballroom, Harry had pretty much given up on the whole walking thing and was pretty much just leaning against Gabrielle and allowing her to gently drag him along. When they stopped, he was pretty sure she was the only thing supporting him at all, but if she minded, she didn't say anything. "You look as if the night has taken a great deal from you, Harry." Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eyes on full blast.

"Mmhm." Harry repeated, nodding slightly. "I have no idea how she's so awake right now." He mumbled, slightly tilting his head towards Gabrielle.

"Likely the same way I and Nicholas are awake." Dumbledore said with a smile. "Jean too, I suppose." And it was true. Jean, who had looked half asleep a moment or two earlier, was now looking perfectly alert as he stood with his heiress and wife, who did not look overly happy to be awake once more. When Harry clearly didn't get it, Dumbledore smiled. "Occlumency, Harry."

Even in his bleary state, Harry's attention was caught, if only for a second. "That's possible?"

"It is." Dumbledore said with a small chuckle. "I do not actually believe that you are too far from potentially learning that skill, either. A few more months, perhaps." When Harry tried to sigh and wound up yawning, Dumbledore's smile widened. "Well, I believe we should take our leave." He turned to the Delacours. "Will the four of you be doing the same?"

"No," Jean said, "we will be staying the night 'ere, but we wished to inform Gabrielle of the fact before going off to bed."

Gabrielle nodded. "Thank you papa. I will be following you to sleep very soon. 'ave a good night."

"You as well, princess." Jean told his daughter fondly, leaving the room with Fleur and Apolline in tow. Harry was a bit confused as to why Gabrielle didn't follow, but then he realized that it may have been rude if she just stepped away and let him fall on his face.

"I will await you at the floo, Harry." Dumbledore said. "Say your goodbyes and meet me when you are ready." Flamel followed him out of the room and left Harry and Gabrielle alone once more in the vast ballroom.

Harry yawned and shook his head slowly, trying and partially succeeding to pull himself back fully to the land of the living. "Thanks for everything, Gabrielle." He said a bit awkwardly. He really needed to get better at this whole thanking people thing.

Gabrielle just rolled her eyes. "You are so nervous to say a simple thank you." She said, clearly amused. "Where is that famous Gryffindor courage?" As she said this, she smiled at Harry and surprised him by doing the absolute last thing he expected. Slowly stepping so that she was now in front of him, Gabrielle wrapped both arms around him once more, but this time it was obviously meant to do more than keep him upright. Again, as soon as the impulse to tense arose, an odd, soothing sensation seemed to fend it off, and Harry felt himself tentatively hugging the taller girl in return, allowing himself to relax into the embrace and enjoy the contact in a way that was not at all typical for him. When the two of them split apart, Gabrielle smiled at him. "See? Was it really that 'ard?"

Harry flushed. He had no answer for the question.

Gabrielle laughed, wrapping an arm around him once more as she began to lead him from the ballroom and into the entrance hall. "Just promise me one thing in return, 'arry?"

"Hmm?"

"You will write to me, yes?"

Harry couldn't help but smile. If he was more alert, perhaps he may have wondered why on earth somebody like Gabrielle would even want to keep correspondence with him. As it was, his mind was not that sharp at present, so he just went for a simple response. "Sure, Gabrielle. If you'd like."

* * *

**The Present.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

As a result of that late night, Harry not only slept much later than was typical, but he honestly found himself thoroughly exhausted. Exhausted enough, even, that he did not even have the capacity to lunge for his wand. When he realized it was Neville standing in his room, he also realized, rather swiftly at that, that Neville would not be going away anytime soon. Grumbling something along the lines of "be there soon" Harry very groggily slid out of bed and made his way over to the closet, dressing as swiftly and efficiently as he could be expected and making his way down to the sitting room, where the presents for both Harry and Neville were laid out under a rather splendid tree.

"Merry Christmas." Augusta greeted Harry with a knowing smile. "How did last night play out?"

Harry rubbed at his eyes as he answered. "Fairly well, I think. Let's talk about it more later, I really don't have the brainpower for that right now."

Augusta smiled knowingly. "Exhausting politics, or a late night?"

Harry grimaced. "Both." Augusta actually laughed lightly, joined in by an impatient looking Neville who was rather amused at his friend's plight nonetheless. After another moment, Augusta gestured for the two of them to bare down on their pile of gifts with a smile, and the two of them did just that.

The first gift that Harry opened was one sent by Lavender Brown. It was nothing much, just a package of Honeydukes chocolate, but Harry was appreciative nonetheless. Seamus Finnigan sent him some chocolate frogs, as did Fae Dunbar and Eloise Midgeon, his other yearmates in Gryffindor. Lavender was not the only surprise gift he received. He had not expected a gift from Tracey Davis, and was rather taken aback when she sent him a book that caused his eyebrows to raise in surprise.

_A History of Parseltongue and Its Sacred Speakers._

Harry suddenly felt rather guilty about not getting anything for the Slytherin girl. He would have to ask Daphne what Tracey may be interested in before remedying that mistake. Speaking of Daphne, she had of course sent Harry a present, which wasn't overly surprising. Her gift, however, did pique his interest.

_Ancient Runes and Their Applications In Warding: A Detailed Guide To A Sound and Subtle Defense._

Warding was something that Harry was aware of, but not something he understood too intricately. He thought that for now, the wards in the book may be beyond him, but he would certainly be looking at it anyways. Perhaps he was wrong and some of the basic runes could be drawn using rudimentary Elder Futhark? It was a stretch, but Harry was hopeful nonetheless. Seeing as he had bought Daphne a rather rare book on Charms, he thought the trade off between the two of them had been fair.

As had become a sort of tradition, Dean had opted for a hand drawn picture. This rendition actually made Harry laugh aloud. It was a stunningly accurate depiction of Harry, pulling up out of his death defying dive with the rogue bludger exploding in the background. Harry had an odd look on his face in the picture, which was brought into sharp relief by the explosion and Dean's shockingly lifelike representation. It was intense, almost like that of a wounded animal. Clearly, Dean had depicted the exact moment in which Harry had realized his plan had worked because it was clearly morphing into a look of sheer triumph. Privately, Harry thought that this was Dean's best work yet, something he would have to make clear when he saw him upon their arrival back at Hogwarts.

The Quidditch team had opted mostly for sweets and small trinkets, but Ron had gone a little bit more personalized. He had managed to scrape up enough galleons to buy Harry a poster of Puddlemere United, Harry's favourite team. Harry smiled at the image of Ron opening Harry's gift, something he was all in all rather proud of.

He had arranged for Ron to get a new wand. Granted, he would have to wait for his parents' return from Egypt a few days before the new term, but Harry had sent him a seven galleon voucher to Ollivander's. It just so happened that seven galleons was the exact price for a wand. That had taken some convincing in letters shared back and forth with Mrs. Weasley, but she had eventually relented.

Fred and George too had gone a bit more personalized. Harry had received some joke items, as was typical, though he laughed when many of them were customized so that their effects would be, in one way or another, manifested in Gryffindor red. That just happened to be the same colour that the paint had been that they had used against Snape at the Halloween feast.

Parvati had opted to get Harry a present as well, which would have surprised him a whole lot more a month and a half ago. With the way she had been slowly sliding into his life over the past six weeks, however, Harry couldn't say he was overly surprised. Inside the package was an absolutely stunning watch.

It was a positively splendid gold colour with the Gryffindor crest done in the center in what appeared to be rubies. Frankly, Harry was flabbergasted. He didn't even have a guess as to how much that cost. He could not for the life of him work out why Parvati and her family had spent so much on his Christmas gift. Her note explained nothing on the matter. The only things it contained were the typical holiday greetings and a question as to whether or not Harry had read her book from last year. Idly, he realized he had forgotten all about it. He couldn't even remember what the book had been about, and added it to his mental to-do list.

Finally, Harry only had three gifts left. This time, the elves had checked them all diligently, so he could be certain that none of them were from his mysterious "secret admirer". When he opened the first, his jaw fell open in a mix of shock, hysterical amusement and outright indignation. He wasn't sure whether to laugh, sigh, or scream.

Inside was a muggle contraption that Harry knew on sight. He was not surprised that the sender knew of it. In fact, it was perhaps the most typical thing he could imagine in regards to the crazed ex-auror. That and the note that was attached to the vest in the package.

_Potter,_

_You haven't been writing to me complaining about your workouts, which clearly means they're getting too easy! If you're not complaining, then you're not doing enough, and we need you to be doing more than enough! _

_I hope you enjoy this weighted vest — might be my favourite muggle invention. It's customized a bit with magic, but that's the fun part. You'll never outgrow the thing, and I can promise that your workouts will never be too easy ever again thanks to old Mad-Eye. It'll start at 12 kilos, but you can adjust it easily. Just tap it with your wand and say "next level". Careful with that though, cause I may have forgotten to add a "level down" feature._

_See you soon — you better be ready!_

_Moody_

"Mental," Harry muttered with a shake of his head and an exasperated, intentionally dramatic sigh, "absolutely mental!" Augusta leaned over curiously, obviously interested in what had drawn that reaction from Harry. When she spotted the vest and the note, she laughed more uproariously than Harry had ever seen. Neville too was in fits, but that was only until Harry promised to put the vest on him in his sleep with a permanent sticking charm. That had shut him up quickly. When Augusta commented with complete seriousness that Neville should be doing the workouts with Harry, even going as far as to scold him for his laziness, Neville was well and truly no longer the one laughing.

As soon as Harry opened the second to last package, he knew exactly who it was from. Despite that, he quickly let his eyes roam over the note written in tall, looping handwriting, allowing his smile to widen with every word he read.

_The Merriest of Christmases to you!_

_I have heard from Minerva that you have been near bored in her class, something I cannot allow to happen for any longer. As an avid addict of the beautiful art that is Transfiguration, I decided to do my part to assure that the subject bores you no longer!_

_Enclosed is a book very similar to the one I sent you last summer. The difference, as I am sure you have deduced, is that this journal discusses my personal theories and suggested practices and methods for Transfiguration as opposed to Occlumency. Between the two of us, I am rather more adept at Transfiguration than Occlumency, and I am very eager to see the leaps and bounds I expect from you in the former subject, as I am to see how quickly said leaps and bounds are made._

_Enjoy your holidays and the wonders of family!_

_Yours truly,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

"He never disappoints when it comes to magic." Harry noted, absently holding the book in his hands as if it were a priceless piece of art. Even in spite of her dislike of Dumbledore, Augusta too was grudgingly impressed, if suspicious, and Neville was blown away. After all, he didn't know about the Occlumency book, so to him, a handwritten book on magic from Dumbledore was every bit as mind blowing as it had been for Harry on his birthday.

Finally, there was only the gift from Neville and Augusta remaining. When Harry opened the package, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. He hadn't known what to expect but if he had made a list of one hundred things, this would not have been on the list.

_The Serpent's Tongue and Its Tantalizing Prospects._

Harry gaped at Augusta. When he had told her about his new found Parseltongue ability, she had shrugged it off. She had told him he should be proud. After all, it was a rare ability that would surely grant him advantages that other people would not have. In her mind, it was idiotic for people to condemn somebody for such a gift, and she had told him he was being just as idiotic for letting their words get to him. Now, resting in his hands in the form of this hulking, ancient looking tome was the physical manifestation of Augusta's words.

"Just to check," Augusta said carefully, "what is the title of the book?"

Harry blinked. "You… don't know?"

Augusta rolled her eyes. "Use your brain, Harry. Of course I don't know; it's written in Parseltongue!"

Harry frowned. "I… didn't know Parseltongue could even be written."

Augusta sighed before gracing Harry with an oddly fond, If mildly exasperated smile. "Well then, it seems that you have a lot of reading to do."

* * *

**Later That Day.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

Ginny peered at the entrance of the Great Hall, waiting for her victims to exit it. It had taken a fair bit of convincing on her part for Hermione to allow her to do this part alone, but she had gotten there in the end. Now, Hermione was out of the way, waiting in the lavatory with the potion. This would be far easier for Ginny if she was alone. As she stood in the corner safely under her disillusionment charm, she saw what she was looking for. At last, Crabbe and Goyle were exiting The Great Hall. Not wanting to make a scene in the Entrance Hall, Ginny pursued them, still invisible down to the dungeons. Only when she was sure that they were alone did she first aim her wand at Crabbe. She, or more specifically, Tom, had been practicing this spell for quite some time on her pet pixie, but it would be difficult with humans. Right before casting, she felt an odd shift as her mind went blissfully blank as thoughts and emotions that were not hers surged to the surface. Sure, these were humans but they were pathetic, weak willed humans with no chance of standing against her.

"Imperio."

Immediately, Crabbe froze as his posture straightened. Goyle whirled around as fast as he could but before he could do so much as move, Ginny had hit him too with the Imperius Curse. It was rather difficult to maintain the curse on two people and if the people in question had even an ounce more will power than these two idiots, Ginny may have failed. Luckily for her, these two had absolutely no resistance to the spell, so she simply instructed Crabbe to remove some of his hair and hide in a broom closet while she instructed Goyle to walk with her up to the lavatory. Of course, she was disillusioned once more as to not draw questions about why on earth Ginny Weasley was walking with Gregory Goyle. Eventually, they got to the lavatory, and Ginny told Goyle to wait outside. If Hermione's plan would have worked, this would have become a whole lot more complicated when she saw Gregory Goyle waiting. Fortunately, Ginny had examined the hair that Hermione had rested away from Millicent Bulstrode during the duelling club and, after a quick detection spell, she knew that it would not work.

Sure enough, the next number of minutes were spent with Hermione crying over being turned into a sort of cat/human hybrid. Ginny assured her that such things could be reversed and assured her that she could handle just fine on her own. If Hermione was not hidden in a stall, she may have seen the satisfied smirk on Ginny's face. As it was, the stall door between them made that impossible and by the time Ginny had gone through the most uncomfortable shift from her body to that of Vincent Crabbe, her face was blank.

Quickly, she exited the bathroom to find Gregory Goyle still waiting for her. "You will come with me down to the Slytherin common room." Ginny told him in a much deeper voice than normal as she conjured Slytherin robes over her now naked body. A few months ago, it may have bothered Ginny that she suddenly knew exactly how to get into the Slytherin common room, but now, the fact didn't even register. As a matter of fact, Ginny felt as if she was watching most of these occurrences from a third person perspective, almost. It was hard to explain, but it felt right, so Ginny did nothing to stop what was happening. "Once there," she continued, "you will subtly probe Draco Malfoy about anything he may know about the Chamber of Secrets, but you will act naturally while doing so. In particular, if it has been opened before and what happened when it was. Specifically, who, if anybody, was caught. Do you understand?" Goyle nodded dumbly, and the two hulking figures lumbered their way down to the Slytherin common room.

When they reached the blank stretch of wall that Ginny somehow knew led into the Slytherin common room, she swiftly commanded Goyle to give the password and the two of them entered. The room was mostly empty, which wasn't really all that surprising given the fact that in Ginny's years, most of Slytherin had gone home for the holidays.

'Wait?" Ginny thought idly. 'My years?"

Before that thought process could go any further, a blissful sort of feeling passed over Ginny's mind and she thought no more.

Mildly perturbed by Ginny's observation, Tom Riddle shifted completely into control with an internal sigh. He had come a long way during the school year but for all of Ginny Weasley's blissful ignorance and youthful foolishness, she was rather strong willed and she was not unintelligent. Tom supposed it was inevitable she was going to notice something if he influenced her mind as much as he had been doing tonight. It was a shame he would have to physically take over, for he had other things he would have liked to do tonight in her body. Now, this would likely use up the energy he had while controlling Ginny and that business would have to wait for another time. In the end, he supposed it was of no consequence. After all, those plans may even change. Tom unfortunately had no memories after the death of Myrtle Warren. As a result, he had no idea who took the fall for the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, or if, in fact, he himself had been the one to take the fall. This was important information, for Tom's number one goal, at present, was to get Albus Dumbledore out of the castle. Then and only then could Tom act on his more pressing plans.

With this in mind, he, in control of Ginny's body, or Crabbe's, depending on how one viewed the situation, took a seat beside Goyle on a couch near the fire and directly across from Malfoy.

"It's about time the two of you got down here." Malfoy said with a sigh. Then, he smirked rather cruelly as he pulled something from his pocket. "Here — read this. It should give you a laugh." Internally, Tom cursed. He had no idea if he could communicate Imperius commands mentally. Well, "he" could, but when possessing Ginny… she did not quite have the magical memory for that spell. He had been left no choice but to force the spell quite intensely for it to even work, in spite of his uncertainty, Tom was thinking with all of his might his desire for Goyle to react naturally. Thankfully, the command must have worked, for Goyle snickered after finally finishing the article on Arthur Weasley's failed second attempt at raiding Malfoy Manor. Figuring Crabbe would react in the same way as Goyle, Tom too snickered.

"Thought so," Malfoy said, leaning forward and taking back the article, "seriously, the nerve of the blood traitor." He scoffed. "Like he would ever find anything. Like father wouldn't keep it all hidden away where the idiot could never hope to find it." He sighed. "Personally, I'm hoping whoever this Heir of Slytherin is manages to get one of the Weasleys before this is all over."

"You really don't know who it is?" Goyle asked. Tom felt some relief at the phrasing. The question had obviously been asked before, but the way Goyle asked it made it sound natural all the same. Maybe the Imperius was not as difficult while possessing Ginny as he had feared it might be.

Draco frowned glancing around the common room to assure that they were still alone. "I've told you, Goyle, I have no idea. If I did, I'd have sent them flowers by now." He paused. "Father did send me quite the interesting letter today though."

"What'd he say?" Tom asked, as curiosity got the best of him. He did his best to dumb down the question as best he could and hoped it was believable, judging by Draco's wide grin, it had been. Evidently, this boy was much like his grandfather had been. Full of a delusional sense of self importance as well as primed and ready to bask in any and all opportunities to show his superiority in any way he could. In this instance, it was clearly by revealing information that he thought was rather mind blowing. Tom had to resist the urge to smirk. It was so easy to play children, Slytherin or not.

"This isn't the first time the Chamber of Secrets has apparently been opened." Draco said in a hushed voice, a smirk spreading across his pale, pointed face as his grey eyes sparkled sinisterly in the fire light. Privately, Tom revilled at how childishly easy this whole thing had been. "It was opened fifty years ago," he continued, "at least, according to messages left behind by the supposed Heir." He scowled. "Wish I knew who did it though." He said, annoyed. "If I did, I could maybe figure out who was doing it this time!"

Tom felt a bubble of internal panic rising within him. He needed this information, the child had to know. "You dunno who opened it last time?" He asked. "Nobody was caught?"

"Oh yeah," Draco dismissed, his smirk returning, "somebody was caught, but they definitely didn't open the Chamber. The Heir got away with it."

Now, Riddle's heart raced in anticipation as he asked what he knew would be his final question for the night. "How do you know it wasn't them?"

Draco rolled his eyes, but he was clearly amused. "Well, do you think it was the oaf Hagrid who opened the Chamber?"

This time, Tom had to resist far more than a smirk. Hagrid had taken the fall? Hagrid? He applauded his past, or future, or whatever self for that accomplishment. Not only was it a positively brilliant frame job, but the fact was inarguably hysterical, and it was the perfect angle to take against Dumbledore. If things didn't calm down soon, surely Hagrid's protector would be removed. Then, if things continued, the stupid oaf would be next. That meant that Tom not only had a direct shot at removing Dumbledore, but it meant he had two people to take the fall before a true investigation even started.

This really was all far too easy.

* * *

**December 26th 1992.**

**Longbottom Manor.**

**2:32 PM.**

Harry sighed as he managed yet another of the fourth year Transfigurations. He had been in possession of Dumbledore's journal for one day, and already, he could feel the leaps his abilities in Transfiguration had taken. He could only imagine what the book would do for him in six months, or a year, or ten years. Now, he thought the fourth year curriculum in Transfiguration may be within his abilities to complete by February, let alone Easter. Soon, he would have to look into the vanishing spell. That bothered him. From what he knew about magical theory, making something disappear shouldn't even be that difficult. With that in mind, it was terribly annoying that Gabrielle had used what was probably a simple spell to best him in their little game. Of course, it was obvious that, at least for now, the older girl was miles ahead of him, so she would have bested him at some point. But still…

Before he could ponder anymore, Harry cried out and leapt about a foot into the air when a stinging hex slammed painfully into his rear end. In mid air he turned, firing off a stunner at top speed. The figure of Mad-Eye Moody batted the spell away easily, but he did raise an eyebrow. Before he asked whatever question he obviously wanted to, he roared at Harry, just as Harry knew he would. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE, POTTER!"

Harry sighed. "Good to see you too, sir."

Moody scowled, but in spite of himself, he had to break character. "That's another thing," he said, "stop calling me sir or I'm gonna put you six feet under in a hurry. Sir is for the useless politicians. It's Mad-Eye or Moody for now, you hear?" Harry nodded, crushing the impulse to answer with a "yes sir" and waiting for the man to go on. "Good," Moody Said gruffly, "now, you got that spell off pretty quick, Potter. Been working on that, have you?"

Harry pondered how much to tell him. "Uh… kind of?"

Moody snorted. "Drop the game, boy. I know you've been practicing Supplementary Occlumency." When Harry gaped at him, Moody fired another stinging hex. Harry dodged this one and glared back at him, but it got the desired effect of stopping him from gaping like a fish. "Stop that idiot act, Potter. I've been around for way too long. A lot of my detractors will say a lot of things about old Mad-Eye, but none of 'em will say that I don't know my stuff." He peered at Harry evaluatively. "So, when did you start learning Occlumency?"

Harry sighed, seeing no reason to lie. "Late first year." He answered honestly. "Well," he amended, "technically mid first year, but I didn't really start making progress until near the end."

Moody nodded stiffly. Anybody else would have been surprised, impressed, even. Anybody else may have said that he was too young to learn Occlumency or cautioned him against the practice. Not Moody though. He didn't show it, but Harry could tell that he approved. "How far in are you?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, thinking. "I can defend my mind against weak probes." He started. "I can do it by imagining them physically forced out and willing it to happen." Moody nodded. "I'm working on clearing my mind while somebody is looking through it and I can obviously use Supplementary Occlumency, as you've figured out." He paused. "I can sort of do thought streams too, but I'm not that good at them yet."

Moody actually looked impressed. "That's a start." He said approvingly. "I suppose having a good teacher helps." When Harry looked confused, Moody chuckled. "Come on, Potter, I'm friends with old Albus and it was my job to put together mysterious puzzles. He's way too interested in you and you've suddenly made leaps and bounds in obscure sub skills of Occlumency?" He snorted. "Honestly, I'd give 'em back all my damned awards if I couldn't figure that one out."

Harry blushed. "Mad-Eye," he asked, since Moody sounded almost rude for some reason. When the man grunted in acknowledgement, Harry asked, "would you… uh, mind not telling Augusta? She's… not a huge fan of Dumbledore's, and I don't think she'd approve of him in my head."

Moody thought for only a second before nodding. "Don't worry, Potter." Moody told him. "I've kept my fair share of secrets over the years and I can keep this one too. Gus hasn't been Albus's biggest fan for years now, but he's doing too much damn good for you for me to run off and ruin that." He nodded, as if in affirmation. "Your secret's safe with me."

Harry frowned. "Do-do you know what she has against Dumbledore?"

As soon as he asked the question, Harry wished he hadn't. Moody's face darkened immediately and his posture stiffened. In spite of that, he did not get mad, he just sighed, suddenly looking as if the motion had aged him ten years. "I have a damn good idea," Moody admitted, "but if she hasn't told you, I won't be either." He shook his head. "If you want to know, you can ask her yourself."

Then, Moody's visage became a whole lot more business like. "Now!" He snapped. "I want fifty push-ups, now!" Harry stood there for a second, blown away by the ludicrously spontaneous request. When he had to dodge another stinging hex, he got the point, and he didn't ignore any of Moody's orders from that point forward as the psychopath led him through a rather torturous impromptu circuit. Finally, when Harry was breathing heavy and standing on shaky legs, Moody waved his wand and conjured a target. He didn't ask Harry to do anything, he just glared at him warningly, as if daring Harry not to be able to do it and find out what would happen.

Still breathing heavily, Harry took a few shaky steps closer to the target and took aim. Clearing his mind and thinking harder than he had ever thought before on the sole intent of the spell, he brought one, resounding word to the forefront of his thoughts.

'BOMBARDA!'

Instantly, a bolt of pure red energy left Harry's wand, seeming to sizzle in the air as it streaked towards its target. Then, as it made impact, a resounding bang rand through the room and the echo reverberated off of the walls as the spell reduced the target to nothing more than splinters. Harry blushed. "I… uh, haven't quite figured out the control thing non verbally. I… uh, sort of overpower it just to get it to-" but he trailed off. That fact didn't seem to have upset Moody at all.

On the contrary, the man was laughing, actually laughing! Harry had never seen Moody laugh like this, but he was doubled over, hands on his knees as he laughed uproariously. For an instant, Harry was seriously concerned for the man's mental stability. Then, as Moody straightened up and wiped a stray tear of mirth from his eye, he actually smiled broadly at Harry. Mind you, even the man's smile was terrifying, but Harry took it as a good sign nonetheless.

"Merlin's balls, Potter. Would you please shut up?" When Harry gaped, Moody didn't even fire a hex at him. This time, he laughed deeply once more before turning to Harry. "I admit, Potter, I didn't think there was a bleeding chance in hell you'd actually manage the blasting curse non verbally! I just wanted to scare you into seeing how close you could get and hopefully you'd learn a thing or two along the way." Then, Moody smirked viciously. "But that," he said, rubbing his hands together in ecstatic excitement, "that, I can work with!"

* * *

**December 27th 1992.**

**Severus Snape's Personal Quarters.**

**1:43 AM.**

Severus Snape awoke with a start in the darkness of his personal quarters that were just off of his office. This was not particularly unusual for the Hogwarts Potions Master. Snape often awoke in the middle of the night but on those occasions, it was usually from night terrors, and that only happened on particularly hectic nights when he had to focus his Occlumency on more pressing matters than suppressing dreams. Tonight, Snape had experienced no dreams, so it took him several seconds to realize why he was awake at all.

Then, two shocking revelations washed over him.

The first was that the wards that he placed on his office and potions stocks every night before turning in were no longer active. Even more worrying, they hadn't just been breached, they had been completely shattered! And second, Severus Snape was not in his bed. Instead, he was in a most uncomfortable kneeling position on the cold, hard floor.

Groggy and confused, Snape opened his eyes, which widened comically. Then, he blinked, not willing to believe what he was seeing. Turning inwards to his mind, Snape briefly checked that he wasn't dreaming.

He was not.

So why then, was he in a kneeling position, seemingly unable to move a muscle but clearly not under the full-body-bind? And more confusing, why was Ginevra Weasley standing in front of him with an almost teasing smirk on her face, twirling her wand absently between her fingers?

"Good evening, Professor." She greeted in a voice far too sweet and innocent.

"What is the meaning of-" Snape began, but he never finished, and he was both shocked and horrified at what came next.

"Crucio."

A wave of pure agony washed over Snape, agony that he had not felt in more than eleven years. He did not scream, but oh did he want to — did every fiber of his being want to. After about five seconds, the curse was lifted and Snape was left panting. He likely would have been shaking too, but whatever magic the Weasley girl, or more likely, whoever was impersonating her, had in place held him completely still.

"It's quite rude to interrupt, Professor." Ginny told him chidingly, actually going to the effort of putting her hands on her hips. "You should have waited until I gave you a chance to ask questions." She paused. When no interruption came she nodded. "Good boy," she said, smirking at the look of fury that contorted Snape's face as he fought the spell in vain and she reached down, going as far as to pat him mockingly on the head like a well behaved pet. "Now, do you have any questions?"

"Who are you and what is the meaning of this?" Snape snarled in fury. This could not be Ginevra Weasley! No first year had this kind of power! This was clearly wandless magic, and absurdly advanced, disgustingly powerful wandless magic at that. He had only felt similar magic from one other.

Ginny smiled. "I think you can see who I am very clearly, Professor." She told him. "As for the meaning…" Ginny reached into her robes and withdrew an oddly specific amount of boomslang skin and powdered bicorn horn. Snape's mind whirled. Not only was this the second time those ingredients had gone missing in the last three weeks, but they were oddly specific.

"So it was you then?" Snape hissed. "Brewing Polyjuice Potion." He sneered. "And you expect me to believe you are Ginevra-"

"Crucio."

This time, the spell was applied for longer and Snape couldn't help but scream. Fortunately for Ginny and ironically, very unfortunately for Snape, the Potions Master always warded his office and quarters against any sound from escaping out into the corridors. Conveniently, that ward had not been obliterated.

When Ginny lifted the curse, Snape was panting worse than ever. "I said, no interrupting." She said before smiling. "Anyhow, the meaning of this, Professor, is quite simple. These ingredients are pretty obvious. Once is a coincidence but twice…" she trailed off before shrugging. "I can't have you notice and start investigating," she said, sounding almost sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I really only have one option." And then, before Snape could do so much as tense or widen his eyes, her wand was aimed at him once more. This time, he did not feel the agony of the Cruciatus curse. Instead, he heard one word before his mind went completely and blissfully blank.

"Obliviate."

**Author's Endnote:**

**Well, things are beginning to pick up and the plot is starting to form, even though you guys may not be able to see all of it yet.**

**Things are going to get crazy soon enough, so prepare yourselves for the chaos that is to come some time not too far in the future. On that note, I will unfortunately not be posting next Sunday. I have reached the part of the year where I am not comfortable posting unless I am several chapters ahead, which I currently am not. I was supposed to get ahead this week, but I had some rather personal matters to attend to that kept me away from writing. I do apologize for this inconvenience, but it will only be a one week break so I can get further ahead and assure that the quality stays up to par.**

**With that being said, I will be posting chapters early on my Discord, and two of them will probably be up at least before I post the next chapter on here, so feel free to join the server i fyou would like.**

**Please read and review. **

**PS: The next chapter will be posted on Sunday, June 21st 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	30. LOS Ch 15: Maps and Misdirections

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

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**In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Instagram aci100ff or by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works.**

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**Author's Note:**

**The final scene of this chapter does have some rather mature, rather disturbing implications. It does not go past being implied, and nothing will ever come of it for reasons that will be obvious when you read it. I won't explain what it says about one of the characters, but it is something I've been trying to hint at subtly for a while without being explicit for obvious reasons. If you get it, you get it.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

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"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 15: Maps and Misdirections.**

* * *

_**December 28, 1992.**_

_**Longbottom Manor.**_

_**8:32 PM.**_

_The word Apauruseya is one that has in many ways been lost to the tides of time. In its simplest form, the word Apauruseya refers to occurrences of the supernatural variety. In this context, it will be discussed in these myths and legends; however, the term means far more._

_Long ago, before the likes of Merlin and Morgana, there were beings with the power to bend the very world around them, to make the elements themselves submit to their will. Or at least, that is the case according to the legends of Apauruseya, many of which were founded in the ancient period of the nation now known as India._

_In this context, the term refers to people with a supernatural ability that allowed them to do things viewed impossible by any other. To specify further, these people, or deities, depending on the source, had the ability to completely manipulate one of the elements that made up our world. From the first ever Apauruseya according to common myths, Agri Leghaera, who could create a storm of fire so formidable that he crippled armies, to Indra, who's abilities with lightning rivaled even those of Zeus in later Greek mythology, and to Vayu, who could bend the force of air so thoroughly that he could breathe a vacuum powerful enough to engulf and destroy cities._

_These are the legends of the elements; those who make present-day sorcery look like children with matchsticks next to an atomic bomb. These are the figures and theories that will be discussed within this book's pages, if you can handle the potential truths of the past._

Harry slowly shook his head, dazed, as he took a break from the copy of _The_ _Incredible Apauruseya of Ancient India and Beyond_ that Parvati had gifted to him over the Christmas Holidays in his first year. He heeded her advice enclosed within her note this year at Christmas and had gone back through his stash of books to find this one. Immediately, the fact that the book seemed to be a catalogue of myths had put him off, but now, he was reluctantly intrigued. Why Parvati wanted him to read about impossible beings who may or may not have even existed, he had no idea, but honestly, the book had captured his attention and if nothing else, Harry thought himself probably one of the most deserving candidates for a bit of rest and relaxation probably anywhere in the world for his age group. Still, he would have to ask Parvati about the book when he returned to Hogwarts. Some people may have looked down on her for her gossiping tendencies and the like, but Harry knew she was more intelligent than she sometimes let on. He knew that sending him such a specific book was not simply a heat of the moment decision, but one wrought with thought of some kind.

Whatever it was, Harry was certainly interested as he continued to read about these legendary figures over the past day or so. Some of their abilities, as mentioned in the book's opening pages, seemed utterly impossible, but some gave Harry pause. Was it possible to create or manipulate lightning on a lesser scale with magic? He knew that the manipulation of fire was at least possible. All of this was something to explore at a later date. Perhaps Parvati would even have some insight into the matter.

* * *

_**December 31, 1992.**_

_**Longbottom Manor.**_

_**5:43 PM.**_

Harry slumped into his chair beside Neville and across from Augusta for dinner. He had gone through a rather brutal training session with Moody earlier that day. He had barely stepped out from the shower he took after the session, before a house elf informed him that dinner would be served soon. As a result, it was a rather battered variant of Harry Potter that showed up at the dinner table that night.

When he first sat down, he found himself immediately on guard. Augusta seemed… tense, and Harry was not sure why. He searched his bank of memories for anything that may have caused it, but his internal investigation came up empty. Neville too had evidently noticed, for he was shooting questioning looks in Harry's general direction every time Augusta was not watching. Every time, Harry shrugged, or shook his head, or gave any other subtle sign he could that might indicate that he was as clueless as Neville. In fact, he had hoped that Neville may have been more privy to the rational. Perhaps something had happened while Harry was training with Moody?

Thankfully, he did not have to wait terribly long to find out. This was one thing that Harry loved and admired about Augusta. She did not hide things from them. She did not use the excuse of them being too young to keep important details to herself. As much as Harry was trusting Dumbledore more with each passing day, it was one of the things that he had much, much, preferred about Augusta. As the thought crossed his mind, a memory from the Hospital Wing after his confrontation with Quirrell at the end of his first year swam to the forefront of Harry's mind.

"_Down in the chamber, I talked to Voldemort. He-he said my mother need never have died; he said that it was me he was after." He wrung his hands, looking down into his lap as he tried to keep the emotion away from his eyes. "Why? Why would he come after a toddler?"_

_Dumbledore suddenly looked not just every bit his age, but a fair bit more so as Harry looked up to meet his eyes. "Alas, the first question you ask me, I can not answer, not today, not now. You will know when the time comes, when you are older — I know you hate to hear this — but when you are older, when you are ready, I promise that you will know."_

But in this instance, Harry fortunately did not have to wait terribly long for answers. Once the three of them had finished their meal, Augusta set down her knife and fork rather significantly and sighed, making hard eye contact with Harry. "I have news." She told him. Immediately, Harry was even further on guard. Whatever had brought this mood upon her, he had not expected it to be "news". Still, he nodded nonetheless, urging her to continue. "I've made inquiries and reached out about acquiring a copy of Sirius Black's trial records."

All at once, the atmosphere in the room changed. Harry's posture stiffened almost at once and Neville suddenly leaned forward, looking alert. It was a stark contradiction to the yawn he had tried to unsuccessfully hide behind his hand a minute or so earlier. "And?" Harry asked carefully, sensing that whatever Augusta was about to say, he was not going to like.

"Apparently, I stand corrected on something that I told you when you returned to the manor." If not for the rather grave situation at hand, Harry may have grinned. The absolute bitterness in Augusta's voice as she admitted the fact that she had actually been mistaken about something was truly awe inspiring. It was as if the fact had greatly offended her. Then again, it seriously might have; Harry would need to know more in order to be certain.

"What was it that you had wrong?" Harry asked in the same, cautious tone of voice he had adopted a moment earlier.

Augusta again met his eyes before speaking. "If you remember, I told you your first night back at the manor that all trial records were made public." Immediately, Harry's heart sank, but he nodded along anyways. "Well, I was mostly right, but there was an… exception... that I didn't know about. Apparently, there is a little known law that allows the Ministry to classify certain trial scripts and records as Ministry secrets if certain facts the Ministry doesn't deem suitable for the public come to light within the trial. As I'm sure you've figured out, whatever Sirius Black told them in his trial must have been especially dramatic. It was enough to have the transcripts classified under this act."

Harry had prepared himself for the blow ever since Augusta had first referenced Sirius's trial, but it still struck him like an ironclad blow when the fact was revealed to him. "So there's no way of getting the trial record?" He asked for clarification in a detached sort of voice.

Augusta paused. "That's… not entirely true." Harry did not allow his hopes to rise, but he did meet Augusta's gaze with a very slight glint of hope in his emerald eyes. "There is one exception to the law that would allow for the trial records to be made privy to you." Harry waited for Augusta to speak. Whatever the exception was, Harry could tell it was unlikely to occur in their case. Her outward visage was not one steeped with optimism. "If new evidence comes to light that casts the original verdict into doubt, the Ministry is required to release the trial records to all affected parties if said parties apply to receive the information. That would mean immediate family and those with a direct tie to the person who, in this case, was convicted."

"Would me being classified as his godson before he went to prison count as being an affected party?"

"Normally, no, it wouldn't. But in your case, I think it would. Your parents are gone and though Dumbledore is technically your magical guardian, that right would immediately pass onto your godfather if you had one who suddenly returned. If Black's case is somehow cast into doubt, then you could apply for a copy of the records."

Harry frowned. "You don't think that's going to happen though, do you?"

"No," Augusta said bluntly, "I don't. Dozens of people witnessed Black murder Pettigrew and those muggles. It would take something very substantial to force the Ministry's hand in reopening the case of Sirius Black. I suspect that Pettigrew would need to show up alive, by example."

Harry's heart sank once more. He tried not to outwardly show his disappointment, but an internal hope had just been crushed. However unlikely it was that Sirius Black was somehow miraculously innocent, Harry supposed it was a hope he had somehow clenched onto based on his gut feeling on the matter, and even in spite of all of the evidence to the contrary. Still, it was crushing nonetheless. After all, what were the odds of a long deceased man suddenly showing up alive?

* * *

_**January 2, 1993.**_

_**Longbottom Manor.**_

_**2:43 PM.**_

By now, it had simply become the norm for Harry's lessons in combat alongside the crazed ex-auror to be held at Longbottom Manor. In his last lesson, Harry had performed rather poorly. He had continued his workout routine, now with the addition of the weighted vest, and he could honestly say that he felt once more like he had been in a wreck after every workout. As a result, he had been rather battered before their last session, which had not boded well for him. Harry did take some consolation in the fact that now, a very annoyed, yet steadfastly determined Neville, was joining him each morning for the workout regiment. At the moment, Neville was struggling greatly. He was not an athletic boy by any stretch of the imagination. There was visible baby fat on much of his body, and his cardio was far from superb. Augusta had been bluntly clinical about the whole situation. Neville's magic had improved greatly over the past year, but if he wanted to reach his desired level of proficiency, his body needed to catch up.

Currently, the only thing on Harry's mind was dodging like a madman as he concluded his session with Moody in typical fashion — a mock duel. As he pulled back, Harry managed to deflect a stunning spell and counter with a nonverbal banishing hex that Moody shielded against. As the auror raised his shield, Harry let loose with a wordless blasting curse that ripped straight through Moody's shield and sent the man tumbling head-over-heels. Just as an ecstatic Harry was about to celebrate his first victory, he felt ropes snake around him and all of a sudden, he was on the floor, staring up at the smirking form of Mad-Eye Moody with wide eyes.

"How… but you were… I blasted you, I saw it!"

"You were seeing the wrong things, Potter." Moody said sternly as he vanished the ropes and allowed Harry to climb to his feet. When I shot the body-bind at you before the stunner, you dove and took your eyes off of me." He shrugged. "It doesn't take long to cast the doppelgänger charm. It's a charm that lets a person create an identical image of themselves that moves and speaks in the same way as the real person." He shrugged once more at Harry's aghast expression. "I disillusioned myself, let you duel the doppelgänger and took advantage of the situation. Always practice CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Never take your eyes off of your opponent and sure as hell don't celebrate too early!" Harry flushed. In hindsight, that at least had been a fairly rudimentary mistake.

"Chin up, Potter." Moody said roughly. "You did well. You're improving at a terrifying rate and I reckon that in a year, you'll beat half the Auror force." Harry smiled weakly at the joke, though he had the odd, ridiculous notion that Moody was actually serious. "You're gonna learn the doppelgänger charm." Moody told him. "You're gonna master it, and then you're gonna do it nonverbally, because if you shout the damn thing, you've kind of defeated the point." Moody paused, peering evaluatively at his sort of apprentice. "I do have a task for you this semester." He told Harry. "One kinda like the last, but a bit more challenging."

Harry set his jaw. "What is it?"

"You're gonna learn the bone-breaker curse." Moody said matter of factly, ignoring the aghast expression on Harry's face once more. "Nonverbally, of course."

"B-but isn't that illegal?" Harry asked, incredulous. "Isn't it dark?"

Moody scowled. "I'm gonna ask you a hard question and you better be ready for it." Harry nodded cautiously. "Would you rather get gutted out on the streets of Knockturn Alley and have everybody cry at your funeral over what a good person you were, or, would you rather the bloke who jumped you in Knockturn Alley get taken care of and you move on with your life, ignoring the few mutters about the questionable magic you used to do it?" Harry hesitated. "ANSWER!"

"The second one." Harry admitted.

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT YOU'D TAKE THE SECOND ONE!" Harry actually did jump at this outburst from Moody. "That's what it takes sometimes." Moody said in a softer voice. "It doesn't make you a monster, nor do you have to become one, but sometimes, stunners and disarming charms just aren't enough." Slowly, very slowly, Harry nodded. "So," Moody said, "the bone-breaker nonverbally by the end of the year."

Harry nodded, suddenly resolute as he remembered the ease with which Quirrell had defeated him last year. If he had spells like that in his arsenal, they would not be so easily batted away. "Yes, sir."

* * *

_**That night, at Malfoy Manor...**_

_Lucius,_

_It was such a pleasure to hear from you! It's been so long! One day, we must grab a drink! I am doing quite well, thank you. I hope you are doing well in return?_

_Mysteriously, I found those records rather… difficult to obtain, but I have managed it, of course. Enclosed in the package are all educational records from the school year you asked for. I would… appreciate it if this did not leak out, Lucius. They are classified documents after all. I know you will treat them with care, but we wouldn't want these to fall into the wrong hands now, would we?_

_Thank you for your faith in me in regards to the Ministry. I'm sure we can talk more about that in person._

_Pleased to hear from you and I eagerly await your reply._

_Yours truly,_

_Dolores Umbridge_

Lucius nodded with satisfaction and opened the package in front of him, sighing at the vast number of unmarked documents that now lay in front of him. It was going to be a very long night.

* * *

_**January 4, 1992.**_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**_

_**8:53 PM.**_

Harry had been having a rather poor first day back at Hogwarts. A part of him had hoped that the suspicion of the school would fade with the passing of the Christmas Holidays. Unfortunately, that had not been the case. As a matter of fact, the school's certainty had seemed to only solidify with the passing of time. Many of them cited the fact that miraculously, there had been no attacks over the break. The same break in which Harry Potter was absent from the castle. Honestly, the absurdity of the school left Harry reeling sometimes. It was so backwards how at times, how they applied logic to their rationale. But when they did, said logic always seemed to be twisted, warped, and framed to suit the specific desires of the person bringing it forth. Other times, when a metaphorical mountain of logic was staring them in the face, they simply ignored it completely.

Example one, Gilderoy Lockhart.

Honestly, the man's class had been the worst part of Harry's day thus far, and that was including the dozen or so stinging hexes he had taken from behind while roaming the corridors and the numerous instances of being "accidentally" kicked, elbowed, and even punched in the jaw. Frankly, Harry was becoming rather fed up by the point he even got to Lockhart's class. Then, he was asked to come to the front of the class for the thousandth time to help Lockhart act out some scene he apparently wrote about in one of his books, which Harry had still yet to touch. It probably hadn't helped his image when he refused, point blank, and walked out, but by that point, he hadn't cared.

Thankfully, he at least had his session with Flitwick that night to look forward to. As usual, Harry was left bruised and battered, but as typical, he left in high spirits. The man was a brilliant teacher and in every single lesson, Harry felt as if he were making leaps and bounds in terms of his ability.

On this night, however, that would prove to be a double-edged sword.

On one hand, Harry suddenly felt about a hundred pounds lighter and could exalt in a moment of peace and freedom for the first time that day. On the other, that was precisely the wrong moment to partake in that exact activity.

As Harry rounded a corner, four spells shot towards him at once. With no time to draw his wand, Harry simply lunged to the side, dodging the spells by inches as he rolled in the precise way that Flitwick had taught him, getting back up to his feet and summoning his wand from its holster. Unfortunately, he realized that he was about to be on the losing side of this confrontation. There were four Hufflepuffs waiting for him, all of whom were armed and all of whom he believed to be in at least fourth year. Setting his jaw defiantly, Harry sidestepped the first spell and sent a stunner back nonverbally. Luckily for him, the girl who he aimed at fell. She had not expected a second year to cast wordlessly, and had been taken completely off guard by the attack. Unfortunately, he was still outnumbered three to one, and he had now lost any advantage he may have gained from being underestimated.

Harry raised a shield as more spells flew towards him. It absorbed the first volley easily, but began to show signs of falling on the second. There was no way he could dodge and deflect three curses at once. He had to take at least one of them down if he even wanted a chance of managing that for any period of time. That wasn't even talking about him actually winning the confrontation. Just as his shield was about to collapse, Harry gritted his teeth, forcing more magic into the spell and buying himself a second or two more of time, with which he was planning to roll out of the way and hopefully counter with a chain of a disarming spell, full-body-bind and stunner.

Before he could do any of that, something exploded near the feet of the three still standing badgers and suddenly, their side of the corridor was filled with an acrid smelling smoke. Harry privately thanked the instincts drilled into him ruthlessly by Moody. He did not even have to think about it — he opened fire on the cloud of smoke. It didn't matter that he couldn't see them. They were at their weakest and now was his best shot. If he fired enough spells at them, they would eventually fall. This process was expedited a moment later when two other casters joined him, and only when the smoke cleared and all four badgers were laying on the floor, unconscious and sporting the misfortunes of several well placed hexes did Harry notice the other two figures in the corridor.

"Fred? George? What are you two doing here?"

"Noticed you were walking into an ambush." Fred said, as if it was obvious they had known such things.

Harry frowned. "How did you know that I was walking into an ambush?"

"All in good time, Harry." George told him, looking down at what appeared to be a piece of parchment. "If you'll follow us, we'll get you out of here before Filch, who is three corridors away from us, by the way, finds us." Harry didn't question how on earth the Weasley twins knew any of this. He just nodded and followed them out of the corridor, down a secret passageway that Harry hadn't even known existed, out into another corridor, around a corner, and into an abandoned classroom. Only when the twins had both hit the door with a frankly absurd number of locking and privacy spells did they turn to Harry.

"Had a rough day, we heard?"

Harry sighed. "It'll be fine. I just need everybody to grow up and realize that I'm not Voldemort reincarnated." The twins both flinched, but it was a minute reaction.

"Look, mate," Fred started.

"We don't know how to break this to you." George continued.

"But the school probably isn't dropping this anytime soon." They finished together.

Harry sighed. "That bad, huh?"

They nodded. "It'll take something drastic, or for this 'Chamber of Secrets nonsense' to go away for them to realize that they're a bunch of airheads." Fred told him.

Harry sighed. "Wonderful."

"Was that the first time you've been ambushed?" George asked him, sounding concerned.

"Yeah," Harry admitted, "but I did spend the last few days before Christmas… somewhere nobody could find me. Aside from that, I've been hexed in the back a bunch, elbowed and kicked in the hallways, and all the rest. That was the first proper ambush though."

"It probably won't be the last." Fred said bluntly. He exchanged a look with George and the two of them seemed to have a lengthy, detailed, internal conversation before finally, they both focused their attention back on Harry. "Luckily for you," Fred said, "we've got a way to make sure it's the last attempt that's successful!"

Harry blinked. "Um… don't take this the wrong way or anything, but how are two fourth years going to stop the entire school from ganging up on me?"

"Good question, my young friend." George said with a wink, removing the piece of parchment he had looked at on the way here from his robes. "You see," he continued, "the two of us won't be doing anything of the sort."

When Harry looked baffled, Fred finished his twins' thought, even though it did nothing to clear up Harry's confusion.

"Most certainly not. That will be the jobs of Messrs. Wormtail, Moony, Padfoot and Prongs. As much as we'd love to be of assistance, we thought it to be best if we passed you into the hands of those far more qualified."

Harry was only more confused now then when Fred started. "Uh, guys? Who are Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?"

"You are full of good questions today, Harry!" George said brightly, beckoning for Harry to stand in between he and his twin. Perplexed, Harry did as directed and peered down at the blank piece of parchment in George's hand in pure and utter bemusement.

That was, until the twins both removed their wands once more, tapped the parchment with them in unison, and muttered what Harry would later know as a password.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good!"

Harry gasped as instantly upon the reception of the must-be password. Lines that he began to recognize as ink began to spread outwards across the map like a constantly elongating and ever expanding spider web. Then, the lines began to take very distinct forms, and small, legible names began to appear dotted on the parchment until, at long last, Harry was looking at what was unmistakably a map of Hogwarts.

One that showed each and every one of the castle's inhabitants.

He turned back to the twins, gaping openly at the pair of them. "Where… how…"

"The where is easy." Fred said with a smirk. "We found this little beauty in Filch's office at the very beginning of last year after we got a detention for blowing up a toilet. It was a right pain to figure out the password. The map has a sort of… sentience to it, I guess. We had to convince it to give us the password. It made us play all kinds of pranks to prove our worth, but we got it eventually."

"As for the how," George cut in, shrugging helplessly, "we have no idea. It's some sort of charm that probably uses an absurd amount of Ancient Runes and Arithmetic equations, but that's way above our level, at the moment."

Harry slowly closed his still gaping mouth, shaking his head slowly several times in order to clear it. "And you want to what? Give me this?"

The twins nodded. "We've had our fun." Fred told him. "Gotten everything we could've wanted out of it. Sure, it's dead useful, but you, my friend, could use it way more than we could at the moment."

"Yeah," George added, "if it means our favourite seeker doesn't get mugged, you can have the damn thing."

"You...you're sure you want to give this to me until this is all over?"

The twins shook their heads, but the bit that confused Harry was how they smirked at him while doing so. "Come on, Harrikins," Fred teased, "you're supposed to be clever."

"What-"

"We want to GIVE it to you. We don't want it back."

Harry gaped.

"Well," Fred supplied, "part of us REALLY wants it back, but most of us wants you to keep it. Trouble just seems to follow you around, so if we can help you avoid the lot of it by giving you a piece of parchment…" he let his statement hang, the meaning of it obvious.

Harry looked at the two of them, completely speechless. "I-I don't even know what to say to this?"

"That you'll take good care of it." Fred said.

"And yourself." George added.

"That too," Fred agreed, "and, put it to good use, you know?" He winked. "Don't do anything we wouldn't do."

Harry nodded numbly, taking the map reverently as goosebumps rose on his arms and neck. He couldn't explain it, but something about all of this just seemed… right, like it was always destined to happen.

* * *

_**January 5, 1992.**_

_**The Defense Against The Dark Arts Classroom.**_

_**2:28 PM.**_

As all of the students were packing their things away, Gilderoy continued to pretend to mark Ginny Weasley's essay. Truthfully, ninety percent of what was written went way over his head. He knew that he was no genius with a wand, but he wasn't a complete idiot when it came to magical theory. Still, what this eleven-year-old girl had written had positively baffled him. She spoke of concepts that he had never heard before. Not that this was the first time this occurrence had taken place. By now, it was simply his standard procedure to give her a perfect O whenever this happened. It was one of the many reasons he was so certain she would be special in the coming years.

Speaking of Ginny Weasley, she was looking at him when he looked up, and a blush had crept onto her face. Most of the students were exiting as she packed her things into her bag. When he looked up and met her eyes, she looked away at once, the blush growing hot on her face. This was a fairly regular occurrence within his classroom, and he thought that finally, it was time to act on it. After all, nothing else he had done had worked. He had praised her, broken the rules for her, and been as supportive as he could. But still, he did not seem to have garnered the trust he would need. If he wanted to be part of the revolution she would inevitably spark, he would have to gain more trust, more favour with her.

Lockhart stood with all of that in mind, under the pretense of seeing everybody out of the room. As Ginny walked past to leave, Lockhart reached out and placed a hand on her chest to stop her. There was nobody else behind her.

"Oh dear!" He said, withdrawing his hand quickly and patting her shoulder. "My apologies, Miss Weasley. It appears as if you've grown since the year has started, haha!" When the girl only blushed again, Lockhart smiled a winning smile. "Could you please meet me in my office at 9:00 on Friday night, Miss Weasley? It's no trouble, of course. You are as brilliant as ever, I simply wish to discuss your most recent masterpiece of an essay." Ginny nodded shyly, still saying nothing as her eyes cast towards the ground. "Splendid!" Lockhart exclaimed. "Off you go then, off you go!"

Lockhart saw the young girl walk away quickly, her head tilted towards the ground.

What he did not see was the twisted, cruel grin she adorned, nor the sinister glint in her normally warm eyes.

* * *

_**January 6, 1992.**_

_**An Abandoned Classroom.**_

_**7:00 PM.**_

It was still odd how Daphne no longer attempted to jump scare Harry near the beginning of each of their meetings. In fact, the habit had been broken immediately upon the fiasco following the Halloween feast, but it was honestly something he was still not entirely accustomed to. He was grateful, of course, but it still felt rather odd. This time, Harry waited with an air of nervousness for Daphne to stroll in through the door. Surely she would not be one of the many who had turned against him for being the supposed Heir of Slytherin? Or worse, what if she believed it, but applauded him for it? He had never exactly asked about her views on blood purity. Mind you, she didn't really seem the type, and he wasn't trying to stereotype all of Slytherin House, but you could just never tell…

"Lost in thought, are we?" Daphne asked, making Harry jump. She had not been invisible. In fact, she had strolled straight through the classroom door, even taking the time to apply the locking and privacy charms she knew of while standing right in front of Harry. He had simply been so lost in thought that he had completely failed to notice her. He supposed he should have been looking at the map, but he had been dealing with other patterns of thought. Plus, he was still so new to the map that using it still wasn't an instinct for him. He had to constantly remind himself that it was an incredible resource at his disposal.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, "you could say that, yeah."

Daphne waved a hand dismissively. "Forget it, it's hardly like it matters." There was a long pause before Daphne sighed. "Is that really what you were thinking about, Harry?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Your face might be blank, but you're still an open book. You're worried that I'm going to shun you for being the mysterious 'Heir of Slytherin'?" She drew air quotes around the last three words and Harry actually flinched at them. He was so sick of hearing those words at this point. Daphne rolled her eyes. "If you were anybody else, I'd tell you that you're a massive idiot who needs to get better at reading people." Harry's face twisted into a grimace. "In your case though," she said with a sigh, "I… can kind of understand why you might have trust issues." She moved closer to him and surprised him by resting a hand on his arm. He repressed the urge to pull away, but did tense under her touch for an infinitesimal amount of time before relaxing. "Let's set the record straight, shall we? The idea that you're the Heir of Slytherin is honestly hysterical. I get a laugh anytime anybody mentions the idea."

"W-what?"

"Oh, come on, Harry, you're better than that. If you were the Heir of Slytherin, intent on ridding the school of muggleborns and all the rest, I highly doubt that one of your three best friends would be a muggleborn himself. If you were the Heir of Slytherin through the Potters, I highly doubt that the Potters would have been Gryffindors for the last two and a half centuries. And if you were the Heir of Slytherin, I highly doubt that you would be appearing at social events like the Flamel Gala with Albus Dumbledore."

Harry almost flushed at that last one. How the _Daily Prophet _had gotten their hands on a photograph when Harry hadn't even thought they were in attendance was a mystery to him. Why they decided that he and Dumbledore attending the Flamel's ball together was front page news was even more baffling. "Whatever anybody thinks of the man," Daphne continued, "I think that he would know if you were the Heir of Slytherin after spending that much time with you."Harry just stared at her, dumbstruck. Daphne rolled her eyes again. "Honestly, what irrelevant detail broke your brain this time?"

"Nothing," Harry said, "it's just… odd, to see somebody raised in the Magical World actually use sound logic, I guess." He winced. "No offense."

Daphne shrugged. "You're not exactly wrong." She admitted. "But for the record, we're not all bigots or fools. Some of us have the morals not to hate somebody for their blood. And some of us have the brains not to approve things like the hiring of that fraud, Lockhart."

Harry actually laughed. "That's literally the example I've been using in my head since the Duelling Club disaster when I try to think of something illogical that wizards have done!""

Daphne sniffed. "Well, it's a pretty good example. The man is completely useless!"

"He is." Harry agreed before pausing and taking a deep breath. When Daphne realized he was still hung up on something, she sighed exasperatedly, crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him, raising one, perfect brow in challenge. "Did me being a Parselmouth change anything?" He asked her. "Like… do you think of me differently?"

"And that," she said, "is another example of wizards doing something idiotic and illogical." When Harry looked confused, she elaborated. "Harry, I'm not going to think you're the next coming of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named just because you can speak to snakes. I happen to think it's a rather neat ability and kind of wish I could do it. It would be interesting to see if you could interact with the paintings and such in our common room."

"We could always try?" Harry said with a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he realized that his little feat had changed nothing in his relationship with Daphne.

Daphne frowned. "I'm not sure how to take the fact that you actually want me to sneak you, a Gryffindor — THE Gryffindor, into the Slytherin common room."

Harry shrugged. "I could sneak in myself. I just need the password."

Daphne quirked a brow. "Oh, could you now? Where's the common room then, Harry?"

Harry smirked. It may not have been second nature to pull out the Marauder's Map every chance he got yet, but he had studied it rather intently after first receiving it. "Go two corridors past the one with all the snake decorations in the dungeons, hang a right, take the second left that leads out into a stupidly long corridor and it's on the right hand side of the hallway." Daphne's composure actually cracked, and her sapphire eyes widened in shock. "How'd I do?" Harry asked rhetorically.

Daphne just sighed. "I don't even want to know how you found that out." She said exasperatedly. "Anyway, back on task. It's stupid that people look down on somebody because they have a gift they'll never have. It's just jealousy, envy. That's personally how I think the whole bias against Parseltongue and Parselmouths started centuries ago." She looked a bit sheepish. "Obviously, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made it much worse by giving everybody a reason to hate Parselmouths."

Harry nodded. Normally, he may have look grim after the mention of Voldemort. Tonight though, he was so relieved to still be on the same grounds with Daphne that he couldn't help but smile.

She frowned. "What are you grinning at?"

"Nothing," he answered dismissively, "just promise me something, will you?"

Daphne suddenly looked on guard. "That depends on what it is, I suppose."

"Never change."

Daphne looked a bit taken aback, but she rolled with it quickly enough, smirking back at him. "Only if you'll promise me something in return."

"Name it."

"Please, do us both a favour and stop doubting me."

Harry couldn't help it. He erupted into peels of laughter that would not cease for minutes on end. It was perhaps the most "Daphne thing" that Daphne had ever said.

* * *

_**January 8, 1992.**_

_**Gilderoy Lochart's Office.**_

_**9:00 PM.**_

"Ah, Miss Weasley. If you wouldn't mind closing the door behind you, that would be lovely." With a shy nod, Ginny complied, and Lockhart stood from behind his desk, strolling forward and meeting her in the center of the room. "I am going to be bluntly honest with you, Miss Weasley. I have seen the way you have looked at me the entirety of this school year. I have seen the way that you blush every time I look in your direction." Ginny was looking at the ground again and Lockhart couldn't help but smile. "What? Did you think I didn't notice the way you never meet my eyes, not even now?" Then, Lockhart made Ginny jump when he reached out and placed a hand on her chest once more.

"You are a brilliant mind, Ginny Weasley. Perhaps the most brilliant student to ever pass through Hogwarts, even. It is not a matter of if you will change the world. The question is, when will you begin changing the world. I have known this from the very first day this year, and I have tried, and tried, and tried to ingratiate myself to you." He smiled again, self-confidence practically radiating off of him. "What I failed to realize is that you are an eleven-year-old girl with an infatuation towards me. It was pretty obvious that you were not going to see the signs. So, I will lay it out to you here and now.

"I can help you, Ginny. With my platform, I can get you started. I can give your ideas a little boost, a nudge in the right direction and before you know it, you'll be in the talks with Albus and all the other greats. But I want to be a part of that. I… I'm not the greatest wizard, you see. I… can only keep my current career going for so long. All I ask in return for helping you along the way is that you… support me. I'll… help you get to where you need to go and with… whatever else you'd like, in the meantime." As casually as he could manage, his hand drifted to his shirt collar. "I do have… much to offer, I might add." Ginny's eyes were closed now, as if she couldn't believe what was going on. "I can… show you, if you'd like?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, Ginny nodded.

Then, as Lockhart reached to pull his shirt over his head, Ginny made one, brief gesture with her hand, much like the motion one would make if swatting a particularly bothersome fly.

And Gilderoy Lockhart soared across the room, slamming hard into the opposite wall.

Dazed and confused, Lockhart hardly noticed as his wand flew from his hand and a seemingly invisible force pressed him into a kneeling position, forcing him to meet her eyes. What he saw in front of him was no shy, eleven-year-old girl.

What he saw in front of him was a face twisted with a terrifying mixture of fury and amusement. And above all else, he saw those warm, brown eyes suddenly tinged with an unnatural red tint.

"You are as foolish as you are fake, Lockhart." Ginny said in an amused version of her voice, though it sounded far more confident than Lockhart had ever heard it before. "Missed the signs, have I? Oh no, I assure you, Professor, that I have understood your plan since the very first day. You saw me as potential. You see me as the next great sorcerer in Magical Britain. So, you sought to use me. To call me your protege and watch me rise to the top." She sneered, clearly disgusted. "To one day… infatuate yourself to me in order to gain favour." When Lockhart began to splutter, she silenced him with a wave of her hand. "No interrupting. Now, as I was saying, I knew exactly what you were doing from the beginning. Which is exactly why I played the part of poor, shy Ginny Weasley, for I knew this day would come." She smiled. "And now that it has, Professor, it's time for MY plan to unfold."

And then, Tom Riddle raised Ginny's wand, his signature, malicious smirk plastered on her young, innocent visage.

* * *

**Author's Endnote:**

**Well, this one was eventful. **

**The scene with the map in particular, I have had planned for a long time. I have actually had that scene written for months, I just made some mild tweaks to assure it fit the current context.**

**Mild spoilers, things are about to go from zero to one hundred starting with the end of next chapter, so I hope you're all ready for that. I estimate two to three more chapters before the inevitable confrontation in the Chamber, and then another three or four chapters until the end of year 2.**

**I will warn you all now that I will likely take a break of several months from posting this story after year 2 is all posted. I usually try to stay at least 5 chapters ahead of what I am posting, and I am barely on time right now. It is a mistake I am unwilling to let happen in year 3 due to its complexity, plus I need to work on another fic that I have not had time to upload, so I will warn you all of that now.**

**It will not be months on end, but likely 2-3 months where I periodically write, but do not post this story.**

**Until then, I hope you all continue to enjoy the storm that is year 2 as it begins to near its peak.**

**Please read and review.**

**PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, June 28th, 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	31. LOS Ch 16: The Final Pawn

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

* * *

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

**In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Instagram aci100ff or by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 16: The Final Pawn.**

* * *

_**January 9, 1993.**_

_**The Grounds of Hogwarts.**_

_**9:37 AM.**_

Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team were left cursing the name of Oliver Wood as they landed on the pitch to conclude a particularly brutal early morning session the Saturday after their return to Hogwarts. For one thing, the wind and the cold had been nothing short of brutal. For another, they had all been in the dressing room at 5:45 and out on the pitch at 6:30. The fact that it was still pitch black outside in the dead of winter at such a time had not perturbed their captain in the least. Nor, apparently, had the following three hours in these brutal conditions. He spent every last second of it drilling his team ruthlessly, and contrary to being bothered, the rest of the team got the distinct impression that the psychopath actually enjoyed it. Hell, Harry hadn't even had time to get his morning workout in. He would have to sneak onto the grounds that night with Neville under the cloak to do it.

Speaking of Neville, he was one of the few students brave enough, or, as Harry liked to think of it, foolish enough to brave the brutality of Mother Nature to watch the Gryffindor team practice. Indeed, not even Ron and Dean had followed his example this morning. Parvati had, however, which presented Harry with an ideal opportunity to broach a subject with her he had not had the chance to bring up thus far since their return to the ancient castle.

"Great flying, Harry!" Parvati said brightly when she and Neville caught up with him.

He mostly beat his blush as he smiled a bit sheepishly back at her. "Thanks, Parvati. Had a nice Christmas?"

She nodded eagerly. "It was very nice, yes. Me and my family go back to India over the Yuletide break each year." Harry imagined that she was going to go on but she paused. Obviously, she felt insensitive talking about her family in front of Harry. Honestly, Harry was always rather miffed about that whole thing. He understood that people thought it insensitive, but seriously? It's not like it was their fault Voldemort had decided to off his parents. It was he who Harry hated. As long as people didn't try to ask about his parents, or anything else that was directly offensive in context, he didn't understand why they shouldn't be able to talk about their own families. "How was your holiday?" Parvati asked Harry and Neville, bringing the former back out of his own thoughts.

"Busy, but it was a nice break." Harry answered honestly, if vaguely. He caught Neville's eye out of the corner of his own and he was fairly confident the other boy was doing his best not to grin at the remark. Neville had been on him about Gabrielle ever since the Flamel Ball. Harry hadn't even told him much, just that he had sort of partnered with an older Beauxbatons girl named Gabrielle. Neville seemed to find it intensely amusing to taunt Harry about it. Harry was still trying to find something to counter with, but when he did…

"That's always nice." Parvati was saying. "I think a break is exactly what you needed."

Harry sighed. "Probably, but not a whole lot has changed around here. Everybody still thinks I'm the next dark lord because I can talk to snakes."

Parvati scowled. "Just ignore them, Harry; they're being stupid. They'll all come around when whoever's behind it gets caught."

"I hope that happens soon." Neville muttered. "This can't go on for too much longer."

It was true. Even Augusta was growing concerned. She had not yet mentioned any intentions to pull the two of them from Hogwarts, but Harry thought that if the attacks continued for an extended period of time, that nightmare was a possibility. Not that she technically had the authority to pull him from Hogwarts, but he would never abandon the only family he'd ever known. And this was Augusta. When it came to being lenient about things like this, she was probably at the top of the list. After all, she was quite literally encouraging both Harry and Neville to train to one day face a dark lord. And that was just in terms of politics. Harry could only imagine who would be next if the petrifications continued.

"I'm sure it will." Parvati said matter of factly. "If anybody can catch them, surely it's Dumbledore."

"I hope you're right." Harry sighed, though he was starting to grow doubtful that Dumbledore could fix this. Either way, the conversation had grown a bit grim for his liking and he had other thoughts on his mind. "Hey, Parvati, I've been meaning to talk to you since Christmas. Thanks for the gift. It was… a lot more than I expected. I feel kind of bad that I didn't get you something nearly as impressive."

Parvati just waved him off. "Don't be silly, Harry. I didn't get you something nice because I wanted something nice in return. That would kind of defeat the point of giving gifts, wouldn't it?"

"I guess, but still…" before she could persist, Harry finally decided to get to the topic that had been on his mind ever since he saw her. "I started reading the book you sent me last Christmas — you know, the one in our first year."

Parvati beamed. "That's good to hear! What do you think of it?"

"It's… surprisingly really interesting. I'm a bit confused about something, though. I appreciate it and all, and it's a good read, but you seemed… like you really wanted me to read it. Again, it's a good read, but… why was it so important that I read the book?" Neville was giving him a questioning look. Harry hadn't shown him the book on Apaurusheya yet. Harry returned Neville's stare with his best "I'll tell you later look", an expression that he had pretty much mastered at this point as he awaited Parvati's answer.

To Harry's surprise, Parvati seemed… guarded. "I thought you'd enjoy it." She said with a shrug. "I've also always been… interested in those stories. I've always wondered if there's anything more to them, you know?" She shrugged again before glancing up to the castle. "Well, it's been great talking to you, Harry, Neville, but I've gotta run. I promised Lavender I'd meet her in the hall after your guys' practice." Harry's eyes narrowed as he reviewed Parvati's words as his eyes followed her ascent up to the castle. Something about that seemed… fishy.

"What's up with her lately?" Ron asked, catching up to them with his brothers. Evidently, the three Weasleys had been trailing them.

Harry shrugged. "We sort of… became friends a while back, I guess. Honestly, I'm not really sure how it happened."

"What's that?" Fred mocked with a wicked grin. "Ickle Harrikins has a girlfriend!"

"How wonderfully scandalous!" George continued.

Harry just sighed. "I'd probably be worried if the school didn't think I was the Heir of Slytherin. Honestly, if you lot want to spread that rumour around to try and distract the rest of the school, be my guest."

Neville smirked. "We could always tell that French friend of yours. I'm sure she wouldn't be happy."

Harry rolled his eyes, burying his face in his hands as he tried not to blush. "I doubt she'd care." Harry told Neville exasperatedly. "We met one damn time, Neville. Besides, she's older than me and out of my league. Not to mention that we live in different countries and are FRIENDS. At least, I think we are."

"Who's this French witch?" Ron asked, bemused.

"Good question, little brother." Fred commended.

"He does seem quite defensive." George pointed out.

"Too defensive, honestly." Fred agreed.

Harry just sighed. Now even more people were going to tease him about something utterly ridiculous and make a big thing out of nothing. Well, he supposed that if it distracted him from the universal hatred of the rest of Hogwarts, it couldn't be too bad, right?

* * *

_**January 27, 1993.**_

_**An Abandoned Classroom.**_

_**8:47 PM.**_

If Harry had held out any hope that the school might relent in their persistent scorning of him, he would have been sadly disappointed. The attempted ambushes and bumps in the halls did not lessen in the slightest. In fact, they only grew in numbers as the weeks went on and the supposed "Heir of Slytherin" remained at large. Another reason they became more frequent, however, was because no matter how hard the assailants tried, they could never actually find Harry, let alone ambush him.

The map from the twins had thus far been invaluable. It was essentially a free pass through the halls. Harry took a certain amount of cynical amusement in watching the dotted figures on the map congregate and very obviously set up an ambush, so for assurance, he avoided it by several floors. He could tell that it was annoying many of the castle's occupants to no end, but it had been an absolute saving grace for him. Mind you, just because he was physically spared did not mean that he was mentally spared. The dirty looks in classes, the muttering in the hall, the hatred dripping from every pore of seemingly every Hufflepuff student, plus a fair number of the remaining student body, was all weighing heavily on Harry.

In many ways, his life of isolation with the Dursleys should have made it easier, or so one would think. In actuality, that only amplified the dark, depressing feeling brought on by the scorn of the school. It reminded him far too painfully of a time he had tried so very hard to forget. And it was made all the more dreadful by the fact that in spite of himself, Harry had become somewhat accustomed to the support of most of the school. He had worked hard not to be the outcast anymore. He knew he was not universally liked, but the respect of his peers was something he cherished after so many years of scorn. And because of all of this, the behaviour of most of the student body weighed heavy on his shoulders.

He was thankful for Ron, Dean and Neville above all others. They had served as a shield against much of the vitriol thrown Harry's way. The Gryffindor Quidditch team too, and of course, the Weasley twins in particular. Harry would have to find a way to repay the twins when this was hopefully all over. Hell, even Parvati had been a great friend over the past number of weeks. She was still oddly skittish any time the topic of Apaurusheya arose, but Harry's friendship with the pretty, dark-haired girl had taken another step forward in his own estimation.

But still, it wasn't enough to block out the darkness that seemed to close on Harry as the rest of the school persisted in their witch hunt. He wished he could just magically make it all go away, but he knew that such things were not possible.

Another person he was thankful for was the very person he was locked up in an abandoned classroom with now — Daphne. She had actually suggested a week earlier that Harry simply swear a magical oath in front of the entire school regarding the fact that he was not the Heir of Slytherin. At first, Harry had thought the idea had some merit, but when he had brought the idea up to Dumbledore, he realized how implausible it really was.

"Heir" was too vague a term, yet it would have to be used since it was what this mysterious enemy had chosen to go by. "Heir", could of course refer to the next Lord of the family, or the last descendent, if one preferred. However, in the case of Slytherin, it could mean a number of other things, as well. In the case of Harry, he was, in a twisted way, a metaphorical Heir of Slytherin due to his Parseltongue ability. Even if it wasn't a blood connection, the oath could still interpret that as being an "Heir of Slytherin".

That was what Dumbledore had explained about oaths. There was a reason they were largely out of fashion and not even admissible in a court of law. Oaths relied on magic to correctly interpret the information. And, on top of that, it relied on the person's wording to not knowingly misguide magic to accept an oath that was not quite as cut and dry as many might think. The example that Dumbledore had used was swearing to tell the truth. Magic couldn't force you to tell the truth. It could only force you to say what _you believed_ to be the truth. Hell, if you were a Master Occlumens, according to Dumbledore, you could even manipulate your own perception of the truth while swearing the oath, and blatantly lie. But yet, in the case of this "Heir of Slytherin" the term was just too open-ended, so it would likely work in reverse. Magic would be the judge, since Harry could not possibly know for certain all of the answers to every possible application of the word "Heir".

It had seemed like such a simple and elegant solution but in reality, it had been wholly and completely implausible.

Still, Harry was grateful for Daphne. Grateful for her company and comfort, and grateful for the fact that she cared. He was also grateful for her knowledge of Ancient Runes, even more so in this moment, as the two of them concluded another night of Daphne lecturing him on the subject. He had proven a remarkably quick study and according to Daphne, he had almost learned the essential basic Runic languages. Very soon, he would be able to get more into their application and actually start using them, something he was quite excited for, if truth be told.

He had also worked quite a bit on the other major third year elective, Arithmancy. He had put it to the side for quite some time, especially since he had already mastered most of the third year curriculum, since the first year was mostly just an introduction to the necessary mathematical principles. But his interest in the subject had resurfaced for two main reasons. The first of which, was that in his notes on Transfiguration, which had proven astoundingly useful over the past month, Dumbledore often spoke about Arithmancy. And the second, because no matter how hard he tried, Harry could not seem to get the bone-breaker to work. In an effort to remedy that problem, he had searched up the Arithmetic equation for the curse. Frankly, it had been so far beyond him that he immediately realized he would have to learn a lot more about the subject before he would be analyzing spells like that, hence his sudden interest in the subject itself.

Thankfully, his practices in Transfiguration had gone much better. He was already almost completely finished with the fourth year curriculum, and he honestly thought that completing the fifth year's by the end of the year wasn't impossible. It would have been more than impossible before, but Dumbledore's notes on the subject were invaluable. As great as McGonagall was, Dumbledore's notes had been the single greatest learning tool he had ever been given in the art of Transfiguration.

But tonight had been about Ancient Runes and as usual, his head was left reeling.

"I don't understand how you got so far ahead in this subject when it's not even taught until third year." Harry said as he rubbed at his temples.

Daphne just arched a brow. "Does hypocrisy leave a bitter aftertaste?" She asked with a smirk. "How far ahead are you in Transfiguration, Charms and Defense?"

"Touche, I guess."

"I just always found Runes interesting. I started learning them not too long after Potions. I'm nowhere near as good with them as I am at brewing, but I still managed to get fairly good at them." Harry could hear the poorly masked pride in her voice. He would not go as far as to call Daphne egotistical, but she certainly rode the line. "You look tired." She observed. "Stressed, too."

He sighed. "I just need all of this Heir of Slytherin nonsense to blow over. Honestly, it's exhausting and a bit depressing. I wish I could just swear an oath, like you said."

"Maybe not the 'Heir of Slytherin oath', but could you not just swear you're not the one petrifying people?"

Harry shook his head. Dumbledore thought it was some kind of creature, so technically, it wouldn't really prove a whole lot.

Daphne sighed. "What is it that bothers you most?" She asked, surprising Harry with the fairly sentimental question.

"Um… I guess just feeling scorned, again. Feeling like I only have a few friends in the castle." He hesitated; perhaps the one good thing about Daphne finding out more about his past than he was comfortable with was that he could talk more openly with her. "I… don't like feeling isolated, too many bad memories."

Daphne nodded. "Well, would meeting a new friend help with that?"

Harry blinked. "New friend?"

"Tracey's been dying to meet you for ages. I just kept pushing it back and back, but if you're feeling isolated, maybe making a new friend might help." It was perhaps the most sentimental thing Daphne had ever said, but privately, Harry thought it might indeed be helpful.

"It… might, I guess."

Daphne smiled. "That's perfect, then. Hopefully, it'll make at least a small difference for you, and it should get Tracey off my back about the whole thing." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, she's more persistent than Lockhart is incompetent."

Harry laughed. "Are you sure that's possible?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Positive, Harry — positive."

* * *

_**January 29, 1993.**_

_**Severus Snape's Personal Quarters.**_

_**10:32 PM.**_

Severus knocked back yet another headache relief potion with a wince. Honestly, it was absurd the number of those he had drunk in the past number of weeks. For whatever reason, usually after classes, Severus had been experiencing rather horrific headaches. More worrying, for Severus, at least, was the fact that his potions did not seem to do much more than delay them, or lessen the effects.

Indeed, even now, on a Friday night when he wished to do nothing more than laze back and enjoy the end of his obligations for the week, Severus was haunted by a pounding, persistent headache. Speaking of persistence, that was yet another thing that had been troubling him a great deal.

Ever since the students' return at the end of the Christmas Holidays, Severus had not been able to shake the oddest, most out of place feeling. Whatever would bring on such a feeling, Severus had no idea. But try as he might, he could not evade it. Not even his Occlumency had managed to suppress it, something that had thoroughly baffled the Master Occlumens.

That should have been fundamentally impossible.

It was as if whenever Severus tried to suppress the feeling with Occlumency, it just slipped through the cracks. Or, it was as if his Occlumency was subconsciously choosing not to suppress the emotion. It was as if it was a warning of some kind.

But Severus could not think of what his Occlumency could possibly be warning him about.

Unless…

He could not see how on earth anyone would have somehow breached his defenses, for he was quite certain none in the castle were capable of it.

But still… Severus could think of no other explanation.

Taking a long, deep, calming breath, Snape turned his attention inwards, examining his inner self and mind with a near impossible amount of precision and efficiency. In saying that, it was not an easy task. Well, turning one's Occlumency inwards wasn't truly difficult, but to do so with the thoroughness that Severus Snape was using was truly masterful. There were perhaps a handful of living souls who could hope to replicate the feat.

It was very lucky for Severus Snape that he was so prodigious in the art of Occlumency. If he was not, if he was any less gifted, he may have missed it.

It was so… subtle. A chink in Snape's mental armour, one might think. In fact, any less skilled or less well-educated in the art of mind magics may very well have thought so. Even Severus, for all of his natural talents and learned abilities with the art of Occlumency nearly overlooked it. Then, he realized that something was indeed wrong. At first, Severus thought it a mere lapse in his own defenses, perhaps due to him diverting his attention to this form of Occlumency. But then, he realized that was not the case.

But still… Severus had never seen anything like this before. His mind hadn't been breached, per se. His shields were perfectly functional, and there was no active force trying to control him like the Imperius curse that was causing his shields to falter.

Then, with shock and horror, Snape realized what was wrong.

His shields were not damaged at all. As a matter of fact, they were perfectly in place. The problem was that a small, nearly imperceptible corner of his mind was shielded not by his own Occlumency, but by the magic of another, unidentifiable source.

Snape's pulse began to quicken as his brain began to piece the puzzle together. There was very little written on this subject, so much of the theory that Severus was applying was guesswork on his own part. In saying that, he was fairly certain he had correctly identified the cause of the problem.

That, unfortunately, did not necessarily mean he was equipped to solve it.

After all, there were so few Occlumens out there who had the ability to detect alterations of their memories at all. With that in mind, it really wasn't a surprise that there was very little, if any, reliable reading material on the subject.

Severus could only trust in his own ability, and hoped very much that what he thought would break the memory lock wouldn't kill him, cause his shields to self-implode, or drive him completely insane in the process.

This would take a rather absurd amount of precision. And that was assuming that it would even work in the first place.

All of this flashed through Snape's mind in a matter of seconds before he forcefully withdrew from himself. Then, in a flash, his wand was in his grip and less than a second later, as he took only time to ensure his silencing charms on his quarters were fully functional, Snape had his wand aimed at his own forehead.

"LEGILIMENS!"

* * *

_**January 30, 1993.**_

_**The Great Hall.**_

_**8:54 AM.**_

Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville stood as they finished the final scraps of what had served as their morning meals. Well, more specifically, Dean, Ron and Neville finished their meals. Harry had been done for quite some time. Normally, he would expect that Ron would be the last one eating, but lately, Neville had perhaps outdone even Ron.

Every morning since the fact had been brought up by Augusta, Neville had joined Harry on his early morning workouts. Now, about a month into the regiment, Neville was no longer complaining about the agonizing soreness wrought by the workouts on a daily basis. But still, he ate like he had been the victim of an intense famine after each and every workout. In spite of that fact, Harry could already begin to see the changes in his best friend. True, Neville did not suddenly look like a born athlete. He was beginning to lose much of the body fat that he had worn for most of his first two years at Hogwarts though. His face was beginning to thin, and suddenly, the ever present pudge that one may have associated with Neville Longbottom was slowly starting to fade.

This morning was not like any other though.

Well, it seemed to be until the Gryffindor quartet began to exit the hall, barely noticing that they were being trailed by Parvati and Lavender. The occurrences that made this day not so normal were threefold.

The first, and, in the short term, most significant of them made itself rather obvious when from behind Parvati and Lavender, strode the Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He walked at a brisk pace, catching up to, and even passing the second year Gryffindor boys as he purposefully climbed the marble staircase.

That's what most of the onlookers saw, anyways.

For one Harry Potter, the occurrence was a bit different. He, unlike his three friends, Parvati, Lavender, and any other onlookers, had not failed to notice the way that Dumbledore had subtly caught his eye, nor the fact that not only was the usual twinkle behind the Headmaster's eye absent, but that there was a startling intensity in its place. The other component of the event that stuck out to Harry and nobody else was the fact that he and he alone received the telepathic message that Dumbledore had used to get his attention. Luckily in this instance, Harry's Occlumency was not yet so advanced that he could pick up Dumbledore's more subtle probes.

'My office… as soon as possible.'

Harry had simply nodded minutely as he accompanied his friends up to the common room. From there, he would slip off under his invisibility cloak, but it would not do to make such an obvious scene, least of all when most of the school still thought him the infamous Heir of Slytherin.

The other two occurrences that made this morning slightly different than any other were more subtle, and closely linked with one another.

The first was something that Harry, his friends, and most of the hall had noticed with vague curiosity but nothing beyond that. Snape was not present at the staff table. It was hardly the first time that this had ever happened on a Saturday morning but though it was not a first, it was a rarity.

The third thing that was not so normal that morning, something that nobody at all noticed was the cold, calculating stare worn by one Ginny Weasley when she noticed the absence of the Hogwarts Potions Master.

Something about that did not sit right with her.

* * *

_**Ten minutes later, in the Headmaster's Office...**_

Harry removed his cloak just as he strode through the open oak door leading into Dumbledore's office. As soon as he did so, the door swung shut behind him of his own accord and Dumbledore looked up. The look in the old man's eyes immediately betrayed the seriousness of the situation.

Harry was unsure if he had ever seen him look so intense.

"Ah, Harry; very good. Between the two of us, I am rather glad, on this occasion, that your Occlumency is not too advanced for me to slip a rather subtle message through."

Harry didn't respond to that comment. Perhaps it was convenient, but Harry certainly wished that his Occlumency was top notch. Instead of responding directly, Harry took his seat across from Dumbledore and decided to skip the niceties.

"Is everything alright, Professor? You look…" he trailed off, not quite knowing how to finish the statement.

"Stressed?" Dumbledore offered. "Strained? Tired? Worried?" Harry nodded apprehensively. "The truth, Harry, is that I am all of those things in great quantities, for everything is, most unfortunately, I might add, not alright."

"What's happened, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I would ask, much like I have done on a number of previous occasions, that this information does not leave this office. It will undoubtedly be made privy, at least in part, to the school at large at some point soon. Until that time comes, however, I would like to stay ahead of the situation."

Harry nodded grimly. Whatever was the matter at hand, it was clearly bad. It had to be if it had Dumbledore this worried, stressed, and strained.

"This morning, Professor Snape was found in his office, unmoving and unresponsive."

Harry gasped. "He's not… not-"

"No, he is not dead, nor is he petrified." As much as Harry despised Snape, he let out an audible sigh of relief. He would not condemn any to that fate. Well, Voldemort, perhaps, and potentially Peter Pettigrew if what had been written in his parents' will was true, but none aside from that. Snape may have been a despicable bully, but he did not deserve death, nor petrification.

"What-what happened to him then, sir? Is he okay?"

"Such a complex question, the latter." Dumbledore observed. "To answer the first question, Severus is in a comatose state. Officially, it is unknown what could have caused such a state, as nothing that Madam Pomfrey has tried has had any measure of success in awakening him from his slumber."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "'Officially?'" He asked, drawing air quotes around the word.

In spite of the matter at hand, Dumbledore smiled, if a bit weakly. "Very good, Harry; you are learning. Yes, officially, the cause of this state is unknown. In fact, it is very true that Madam Pomfrey has absolutely no idea what could have caused it, nor how to bring Severus out of it, if such a thing is indeed possible at all."

"But you know?"

"I do not know exactly, but I do have a guess. Between the two of us, my guesses have a funny habit of usually turning out to be correct." When Harry just looked at him expectantly, Dumbledore sighed again. "You see, Madam Pomfrey is a premier healer, one of the best I have ever met. Healers are the most qualified among us to examine any damage, magical or physical, that has been inflicted upon the body." Dumbledore waited for Harry to have an epiphany, but none came. "In Severus's case, his body is completely fine. On the surface, he is the definition of a clean bill of health."

"On the surface?"

"Yes, you see, his body is as strong and healthy as ever. It is my belief, however, that his mind is less so. I… performed a light Legilimency scan of Severus. The results were… troubling. Severus is one of the foremost experts of Occlumency in Magical Britain, if not the Magical World at large. With this fact in mind, it is exceedingly troubling that I could detect almost no presence of Occlumency shields." Harry's eyes widened. One's shields, once developed, did not just disappear.

"You-you think something caused his shields to collapse, sir?" That was another thing. There could be all sorts of short term, and potentially even long term consequences if one's Occlumency shields were to collapse depending on how reliant the person was upon them.

"I am not certain." Dumbledore admitted.

"Take a guess." Harry said, and Dumbledore cracked a weak smile.

"Very well, very well. I do not believe Severus has experienced a true collapse of his shields. I find it more likely that his mental magic is simply… devoted to other matters so important that the maintenance of his shields is simply unimportant by comparison. This theory is further supported by the fact that his mind, though scattered and hectic, remains the picture of control in terms of magic. If his shields had collapsed, his mind would be a panicked web of turmoil."

"But what else could he possibly be using his Occlumency for that would take so much effort?" Harry asked worriedly. He could think of nothing that could possibly take so much energy.

"Again, I can only guess but again, I suspect that I am correct." Harry waited as Dumbledore gathered his thoughts. "You will remember, I am sure, a conversation we had quite some time ago now. It was brought up once more at the Flamel's ball far more recently. A conversation in which we discussed the evils of magic and the true potential of Occlumency?"

Harry nodded, eyes widening. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly where this conversation was heading. Satisfying as it may normally be to be right, Harry had never more hoped to be wrong.

Unfortunately, his worst fears were seemingly confirmed a moment later, causing his heart to skip a beat.

"We spoke of memory charms at great length during that conversation. We spoke of how a very high level Occlumens could potentially counteract the effects of the memory charm."

"So Snape's been memory charmed?"

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, yes, Professor Snape's been memory charmed?"

"I believe so, yes."

"But he can counter it, right?"

"Well that is the question, isn't it? There is very little known about the countering of memory charms through the use of Occlumency beyond the fact that it is possible, at least in theory. I know of at least one method that may perhaps work, but it would be… risky, one might say. It would be a sort of combination of Occlumency and Legilimency. You would need to Legilimize your own mind and break the block on your memories. The tricky part would be maintaining control and order in your mind while this happened through the use of Occlumency. I… certainly hope that Severus is capable of succeeding in his venture. Failure would likely lead to some… less than pleasant results if this was his method of choice."

Harry let that sink in. The possibility of Snape being successfully memory charmed within the halls of Hogwarts was terrifying. Who had the power to overpower Snape and perform the charm? And what did that mean for the school at large?

"Do-do you have any idea who might have done it, Professor?"

"Specifically, no; I am afraid I do not. In more vague terms, I am fairly confident in saying that the assailant was the same person who's been writing messages on the walls."

"The Heir of Slytherin." Harry muttered, his heart sinking as the revelation set in.

"Or whoever may be acting in his place, yes." That comment struck Harry as oddly specific. He knew that Dumbledore was limited in what he could say due to Ministry contracts signed fifty years ago, but he was quite certain that in some way, shape or form, that had been a hint.

"Is that why you told me this, sir? Do you still think the Heir of Slytherin is after me?"

"I am certain of it, and it is precisely why I informed you of this. I do not know why the Heir has sought out Severus as a target, but I can think of one possible outcome. I think it likely that Severus, who has always been something of a deductive genius in his own right, deduced something about the Heir's identity or plans that this person or their agent wants buried." Harry nodded; it made sense, but he still was not entirely sure of why he was being informed of this fact, appreciative as he was. "Why I am telling you this, Harry," Dumbledore continued, as if reading Harry's thoughts, "is because I believe that when Severus wakes, for I do believe that if any are capable of it, it is he, the Heir will likely be exceedingly desperate. Desperate people are the most dangerous kind of people. It is likely they will accelerate their plans, and it is my wish that you stay safe during these times."

Harry frowned; he did not like the idea of hiding away, or any other possible ways of "staying safe". "How do you mean, sir?"

"When the time comes, Harry, I will get a message to you. When that message reaches out, I would ask that you please come to my office immediately." Dumbledore fixed him with a hard stare. "While doing so, you will stay concealed under your cloak and head straight to my office with no distractions. Do you understand?" Harry nodded. "Make sure you understand me completely, Harry. If you hear that mysterious voice calling out for blood, you will not chase it?" Harry nodded, if a bit hesitantly. "If you see something you view as a clue, you will not pursue it?" Again, a hesitant nod from Harry. "If you hear another student being attacked nearby, you will not stop to assist them?" Harry hesitated; how could he agree to that. "Your word, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "I… promise I won't, unless it's one of my closest friends."

Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose that is very likely the best I could have hoped for." He shook his own head as if to clear it. "Well, I will release you to make the most of your time. Stay vigilant and prepared. I have the distinct impression that we are merely experiencing the calm before the storm."

Harry nodded and got to his feet, wondering how much worse things could get before this Heir of Slytherin was caught and dealt with.

* * *

_**February 6, 1993.**_

_**The Hospital Wing.**_

_**1:54 AM.**_

Severus Snape sat bolt upright with a gasp typical for one who had escaped a near drowning. His eyes were wide as he looked around the room, trying to best deduce what had transpired. Obviously, his self-Legilimency had taken quite the toll on him, which was not unexpected. He was in the Hospital Wing, which clearly implied that Snape had been out for longer than expected. Though in hindsight, that wasn't entirely surprising.

It had been devilishly difficult to break the memory lock imposed upon him. Worse, it had been even more difficult to deal with the mental backlash of breaking it. Thankfully, not a whole lot had actually been suppressed by the block, or he thought it would have been worse. It was more the actual breaking of the block itself and the magical backlash that had turned his mind into a chaotic hell hole. Really, he could have forced himself awake days ago, but he would have been in no mental state to be productive, and Snape was nothing if not careful when it came to the maintenance of his own mind. He had been reluctantly content to take as much time as it took to piece his mind back together and make sure that it suffered nothing from the results of his little experiment.

As potentially dangerous as it all had been, Snape had far more pressing matters on his hands. Specifically, the problem of one Ginny Weasley, or whoever the hell had been impersonating her. For a first year to be able to cast a memory charm should have been impossible, let alone one as powerful as what he had just had to contend with. But for a first year to have completely neutralized him with what he was sure was some advanced form of wandless magic was unfathomable. That, mixed with her out of this world academic performances, and the ingredients that she had been stealing painted a very vivid puzzle for Snape.

But after that night… Snape actually didn't know how long ago, since he had no idea what day it was, he was not taking any chances. He had felt magic like that which he had dealt with on that night from only one other, and he was a man who Snape could not oppose, at least not alone.

There was only one thing to do about this, and it had to be done at once.

He had to warn Dumbledore.

Holding out his hand, Snape summoned his wand to him. It was one of two wandless spells that he knew of and it had taken him a very long time to figure it out. It had proved invaluable over the years though, so it had all been worth it. Getting to his feet and silencing his footsteps, Snape cast the doppelganger charm and made sure his clone would lay in his bed and wait for him to return. That would stop Poppy from raising an alarm. He could not chance that happening. If whoever was impersonating the Weasley girl caught wind of what was about to happen…

No, he couldn't think about that now. Warn Dumbledore first, then help to neutralize the threat. There was no time for worrying.

Casting a disillusionment charm over himself with well-practiced precision, Snape swept out of the hospital wing and began to creep up towards Dumbledore's office. Every few hallways, he cast the Homenum Revelio charm, but it had thus far come up empty. Granted, he got the scare of his life when, on the sixth floor, he cast it and it revealed a presence, only for said presence to turn out to be Argus Filch.

Finally, Snape reached the seventh floor as his heart began to beat at a rapidly accelerated pace. Just a few more hallways to go, and he could begin to put this threat to bed…

But then, his charm revealed not one, not two, but three human presences, and he stiffened. Carefully creeping towards Dumbledore's office after redoubling the power he put into his disillusionment charm, Snape finally rounded the final corner, and found himself confused, if not worried.

There was only one figure waiting for Snape in the hallway ahead. Rationally, Snape knew he should try and locate the other two, but he was honestly so surprised by what he saw that he had to pause. Slowly, Snape crept towards the figure. Only when he stood right behind him and subtly cast detection wards around himself did he speak.

"What are you doing here, Gilderoy?"

Snape expected the rather jumpy fraud to whirl when he heard a voice, let alone that of somebody who had evidently been out of the picture for at least a number of days. Instead, Lockhart turned his head slowly and met Snape's dark eyed stare with his own, brilliant blue eyes.

"Ah, Severus, awake once more. You're just in time for my plan to unfold!"

Snape's eyes narrowed. Surely the fraud didn't actually think himself capable of catching the Heir of Slytherin like he had claimed all year? "If you are planning on going after the Heir, Gilderoy, I would suggest waiting until I have spoken to the Headmaster."

Lockhart only chuckled in response. "Come on now, Severus, we both know that's not what I meant when I mentioned my 'plan.'"

Snape's eyes narrowed as he cast a glance around the corridor. If anybody so much as moved, he would be instantly aware of it thanks to his wards and he would instantly defend himself. This far, however, nobody had.

Still, Snape had the dreadful feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

That feeling confused him a great deal. After all, he was hardly afraid of Gilderoy Lockhart. In fact, there were a number of students who Snape would be closer to fearing than the pitiful excuse of a Defense Against The Dark Arts professor stood in front of him.

"What exactly are you planning then, Gilderoy?"

Lockhart smiled. "Why, Severus, it would be no fun to reveal the plan, now would it?"

Snape crooked an eyebrow. "You just finished saying that I was just in time to witness its conclusion, did you not?"

"Oh, no, no. I said that you were just in time, but I never said anything about you witnessing its conclusion." Then, Lockhart stepped aside and suddenly, with dread closing around his heart, Snape realized why his back had been to him and why Lockhart had been focused on the wall.

There, several feet to the right of the gargoyle leading up to Dumbledore's office, there were words on the wall written in red writing.

_Not even the King of the Snake Pit is safe from the wrath of Slytherin's Heir when they are foolish enough to pose opposition._

"You see, Severus," Lockhart said as Snape had to take a moment to pause and process what was going on, "you're part of the plan, my slippery friend. As a matter of fact, you're the final pawn. With your fall, everything can finally start sliding into place."

Snape snarled as his wand slid into his hand. He could not possibly believe that Lockhart was the Heir of Slytherin, but he was about to strike first and ask questions later.

That was, until his wards were tripped as something came from behind him. He used the word "something" because whatever it was, his wards were telling him it was not human.

Then, Snape pulled out yet another trick of Occlumency as he dilated his perception.

One could not manipulate time, but they could, if sufficiently skilled with mind magic, manipulate their own perception of time. As a result, the world around Severus slowed. Of course, this meant his movements slowed too, but that wasn't the point. He just needed to figure out what was going on. Luckily for him, the torches on the wall cast a shadow and vaguely, he could make out the rough outline of what was sneaking up on him.

A snake…

'Oh, fuck!'

And just like that, it all made sense.

The Heir of Slytherin, armed with a monster that could kill or petrify students? Granted, Snape had absolutely no idea how the unlucky victims of the serpent's gaze had survived thus far, but he could think of only one beast with that ability.

A basilisk.

That unfortunately meant that Severus knew he was completely trapped and outmatched. He had no hope of beating the basilisk in this position, so he simply had to survive. With a thought, Snape opened four additional streams of thought, all of which were promptly used to review each petrification and everything known about it.

At that point, Snape realized the general idea.

They had all seen the thing indirectly.

With that in mind, there was only one thing he could think to do. Unfortunately, that would involve him turning around for if he didn't, the thing would simply bite his head off. He only hoped he was fast enough and that he hadn't taken too long.

Releasing his dilation, Snape whirled with his wand drawn and raised, casting a spell just as he turned to face the hulking serpent. As his vision faded to black, Snape could only hope that he had been fast enough.

* * *

**Author's Endnote:**

**Apologies for being a couple hours late. Life happens sometimes XD**

**As long as it's on the right day, I doubt you guys are too bothered. I know the ending was a bit confusing, but it will all make sense in time.**

**I did say that the end of this chapter would be the start of the storm, didn't I?**

**Sorry for spending so much time in this chapter on oaths. I had a reviewer ask why Harry didn't simply swear an oath in front of the hall, and it kind of annoyed me. Not because of the question, just because of the amount of people who just think everything can be fixed with an oath, because some fan fictions aren't written well enough to close the plot holes they create. If you can't tell, oaths are very limited in this story. They work in very specific situations, but they will be utterly useless in others.**

**Just thought I'd clear that up so hopefully the question doesn't come up in the future.**

**Also, a shoutout to The Sinister Man's Prince of Slytherin once more since I am again borrowing from its mind arts system with the concept of perceptual dilation.**

**With that in mind, I hope you're ready for the next few chapters, because they are about to go fast! Also, I am very excited for the chapters after the Chamber fiasco, for I still have several aces up my sleeve to end the year, none of which tie into the traditional canon plot for year 2.**

**Please read and review.**

**PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, July 5th, 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST**


	32. LOS Ch 17: Mental Arenas

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. An additional shoutout goes to Discord user DawnofAzazel for the edit to the original chapter draft.**

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

**In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Instagram aci100ff or by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works.**

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**Author's Note:**

**I don't do this very often; I honestly don't know if I've done it once on this story. But this story is tantalizingly close to both 700 favourites and 1000 followers! If we could get to those milestones, that would be splendid!**

**If you guys are enjoying the story and have not yet followed/favourited, I would be profoundly grateful if you did so.**

**I now return you to your regularly scheduled fanfic!**

* * *

**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 17: Mental Arenas.**

* * *

_**February 6th, 1993**_

_**The Headmaster's Office**_

_**6:23 AM**_

Harry's morning thus far had been a whirlwind. As usual, he had woken bright and early and roused his best mate, Neville. As usual, the two of them had dressed as quickly as possible and made their way out onto the Hogwarts grounds to complete their workout regiment, courtesy of the lunatic known best as Mad-Eye Moody.

That part of Harry's morning had been quite standard.

What had been less standard was when Harry and Neville had been unable to make it back to the Gryffindor common room. Well, Harry supposed that they had not been physically prevented. One of the portraits in the Entrance Hall had called for Harry at once, much to the surprise of the duo of second year Gryffindors. At first, Harry had been fully intent on ignoring the portrait altogether. That was until it had mentioned that the Headmaster had an urgent message for him and he was to report to Dumbledore's office immediately. At those words, Harry's pulse had quickened. In his admittedly not-so-esteemed estimation, that could only mean one thing.

Snape was awake.

Regretfully, Harry had told Neville that this was a meeting he could not miss. He also urged his friend to be careful while returning to the common room. Then, when he saw that Neville was safely out of sight, Harry donned his invisibility cloak and took the route to Dumbledore's office at a flat sprint.

Minutes later, Harry found himself barging through the office door without invitation. Luckily, Dumbledore, who was most uncharacteristically pacing about the office, did not seem too bothered. In fact, Harry seemed far more bothered by the old man's pacing and the absence of one Severus Snape than Dumbledore seemed by Harry's rudeness.

"Good, I had hoped a portrait would find you promptly." Dumbledore said, pausing his pacing to take a seat heavily in his high-backed chair, gesturing vaguely for Harry to take his customary spot across from him.

"Sir, what's happened? Is Snape awake?" It was a mark of how serious the situation at hand was that Dumbledore did not even bother to correct Harry on his lack of formality when addressing his least favourite Hogwarts Professor.

Instead, Dumbledore closed his eyes and looked down at his desk. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he could practically feel the pain radiating off of the man in front of him, and could practically see it in the aged lines of his face. "Professor Snape was indeed awake." Dumbledore affirmed, but Harry did not miss the ominous use of past tense. "Unfortunately, he is… missing."

"Missing?" Harry asked incredulously. "Sir, how does a Professor just go 'missing'?"

"A question I'd be asking myself as well, Harry, if not for the writing left on the wall last night."

The already building fear inside of Harry seemed to spike at those words. "W-writing, sir? Where? Was it the Heir of Slytherin?"

"It most certainly was." Dumbledore said, and for the first time all year, Harry thought he sounded… bitter. "As for the where — the message was left right outside my office."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed, eyes wide. "I didn't see any message on my way in."

"Naturally, you would not have. I took great lengths to ensure that the message was removed. It would not do for the vice of panic to close on the school prematurely."

Harry hesitated; he wasn't entirely sure whether he actually wanted to know the answer to his next question. Alas, it was probably necessary to better understand the situation at hand. "What-what did the message say this time, sir?"

Dumbledore frowned in a way that implied he was feeling vast amounts of distaste. "Not even the King of the Snake Pit is safe from the wrath of Slytherin's Heir when they are foolish enough to pose opposition." He wrinkled his nose. "It is… highly juvenile, but disturbing in its implications."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Last time, Harry, the Heir of Slytherin did not dare attack any from his own house. This time, he has not only stepped across that undrawn line, but he has practically eviscerated it by not only attacking a Slytherin, but by attacking the Head of Slytherin House. As far as Slytherin House is concerned, Severus, in many ways, serves as its face, as well as its leader." Privately, Harry thought that if that were true, then perhaps that was why Slytherin was so universally disliked. But in the present moment, he doubted that voicing such thoughts aloud would serve him any real benefit.

So, instead, he asked the obvious question, which, coincidentally, also happened to be just about the only response Harry could come up with at that point in time. "What now, sir?"

Disturbingly, Dumbledore, who always seemed to have the answers, looked at a loss for words. "I must confess, Harry, that I am not entirely sure." He winced. "Well, I am fairly sure that in the context of myself, what is 'next' is likely me being asked to step down as Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"WHAT?! But they can't! If you leave, the school will just be even more dangerous! If the Heir of Slytherin knows you're out of the way, they know their path is clear!"

"This is true," Dumbledore admitted, "but it is simply the reality at hand. The Board of Governors meet every Sunday night. By the time they meet tomorrow evening, the news of Severus's fate will have travelled far and wide. By then, I have no doubt that I will be the victim of a vote of no-confidence. Which, in the current situation, I can hardly blame them for."

"But if you leave-"

"Yes, we both know everything you have already said is true." Dumbledore hesitated. "I would… also remind you, however, that such a thing may not always be a negative." He winced for a second time. "While the fact that the school will become more dangerous for its students is deeply troubling and equally heartbreaking, as you have said, it will allow the Heir of Slytherin to move further into the open. If we would like to have any hope in seeing their downfall, I believe that moment will be our best opportunity. When most exposed, they will be at their most dangerous. However, it also naturally means that they will be at their most vulnerable."

"So it'll be up to me to beat the Heir of Slytherin, then?" Harry asked, incredulous. "Professor, I can't do that! If you haven't been able to find him, what chance do I have? Even if he does come out into the open, he's bested Snape twice! I'm a second year!"

"Harry, I wish nothing more than to be able to tell you that this is a burden you must not bear. I am… afraid, however, that the choice will not be ours. The Heir of Slytherin has been arranging the pieces for many months to assure that the two of you end up on an inevitable collision course. Soon, it will be unavoidable. Your advantage, Harry, is that you need not act alone. The Heir of Slytherin is powerful, elusive and dangerous, but he is also isolated, alone and friendless. Your advantage, Harry, is not only the people around you, but the motivation in which they provide. The Heir of Slytherin fights for himself and his narrow-minded beliefs. You fight for those around you and those you hold most dear. Never forget that, Harry. It is a weapon sharper than any wielded by the Heir of Slytherin."

* * *

_**An hour later, in the Room of Requirement…**_

Neville slumped backwards as Harry concluded his tale. Thankfully, the room conjured up a chair for him to land in, but by the stricken look on Neville's face, one may have very well assumed he had indeed smacked his head forcefully off the floor. "I can't believe this." Neville muttered. "Dumbledore's going to be gone? Blimey, he's probably the only one keeping this Heir of Slytherin from going on a rampage."

"I know," Harry said, grimly, "Dumbledore seems to think that's not a bad thing, though. For some reason, he seems to think I'll somehow beat this Heir of Slytherin."

"You're brilliant, Harry, but honestly, I'm not sure how Dumbledore's come to that idea."

Harry laughed. "It's ok, Neville. I honestly haven't figured that out either."

A long pause stretched between them before Neville mustered up the ability to speak once more. "Are you going to write Gran? Tell her what Dumbledore's told you?"

Harry hesitated. "I… don't want her to pull us from Hogwarts, or anything."

"Harry, this is crazy! You can't beat this Heir of Slytherin on your own! Plus, you promised Gran you'd keep her in the loop."

Harry threw up his hands. "Ok, ok, I'll write to her. But honestly, I don't see what she's going to be able to do. Plus, I can't tell her everything. I haven't even told you everything. Not because I don't want to," he clarified when he saw the aghast look on Neville's face, "there are things that Dumbledore's told me that I've promised him not to tell anybody, no matter what. At least, until this Heir of Slytherin crap is dealt with."

Neville sighed. "I don't like it." He said. "Any of it; you going after this Heir of Slytherin, you keeping secrets from me for Dumbledore, but I get it."

"I'm not going after the Heir." Harry promised Neville. "If I have my way, he'll slip up and reveal something to me and then I'll go tell the teachers and maybe even write Dumbledore. It's the Heir who's after me; Dumbledore just seems to think that he's going to manage to get his wish and get to me."

"Can we just hope that Dumbledore's wrong?" Neville asked weakly.

Harry sighed. "Honestly, Neville, I don't know what to hope for at this point. On one hand, I obviously want nothing to do with any of this nonsense. But on the other, I really want whoever's doing this to get caught. For the people he's hurt, for the safety of the rest of us, and so Hogwarts can stay open and go back to normal. If-if that means I have to stop him… well, he can't be worse than Voldemort, can he?"

Neville actually winced. "Why do you have to go and say that, Harry?" He moaned. "Gran always told me not to challenge the gods of irony. She says you'll always lose."

Harry winced. "Well," he offered weakly, "here's hoping she's wrong about something that'll actually work out in our favour, this time."

* * *

_**At lunch, in the Great Hall...**_

Lunch had been a rather hectic affair. By this point, a dozen rumours about Snape were flowing through the school. Harry estimated that by dinner, the entirety of Hogwarts would know exactly what happened to Snape. Well, as exactly as he, Dumbledore and the rest of the staff knew, anyway. Honestly, the morbid air that practically clung to most of the Hogwarts staff should have been a dead giveaway for exactly what had happened to Snape. As a result of the rumours, lunch was chaotic. The air of fear, tension and anxiety was palpable, and it was very clear both by the general twitchiness in the hall and by the countless conversations that were being held in hushed whispers that it was deeply affecting the majority of the student body.

Aside from the entire Heir of Slytherin commotion, there was another reason that Harry had an eventful lunch. About halfway through the meal, one of the school owls landed in front of him at the Gryffindor table with a letter attached to its leg. It was rare that letters or packages were delivered at lunch, but not too rare that it drew an unnecessary amount of attention. Granted, all three of Harry's friends, plus Parvati and Lavender's attention fixed on him all at once. Harry valiantly ignored the lot of them, pulling the letter close to him and opening it precisely, reading it in a manner that would not allow for any of his friends to read it over his shoulder.

_Harry,_

_I can't put up with my house today. Everything's a mess and that atmosphere is making me nuts! Tracey's no better than me. Meet us in our room at around 3:00, will you? I think we all need a break from this garbage, and it seems as good an excuse as any to introduce you to Tracey._

_See you soon, _

_Daphne_

'Of all the days.' Harry thought, mentally adding up just how eventful this day had been already. Frankly, he wasn't sure how much more eventfulness he could take today. Still, he realized how important it was to Daphne to have a distraction. Well, truthfully, he'd never have noticed, if not for her letter. It carried none of the usual teasing that the two of them partook in, and that, to Harry, was as much of an indicator as anything that she really wasn't kidding about needing a distraction.

"Who's that from?" Ron asked, just barely managing to be comprehensible in spite of his mouth full of potatoes.

"A friend." Harry answered, not exactly knowing how else to word it. None of his friends knew that he spent time with Daphne. Granted, they had noticed, by now, that Harry had a habit of slipping away at the same time each week. He had managed to convince both Dean and Ron that this was simply regimented spell practice, but Neville hadn't been fooled as easily. In saying that, it was a true mark of their friendship that he hadn't gone and blabbed about his suspicions to Ron, Dean, or anyone else, for that matter.

Speaking of Neville, the boy's smirk suddenly turned predatory. "So you and your French friend are writing to each other now?"

Harry had a split second decision to make. Either A, he could agree with Neville and get the mickey taken out of him for the rest of time over something that was not and would never be. Or B, Harry could admit right then and there that he was friends with a Slytherin girl and that he'd hidden it for the better part of a year. Honestly, Harry preferred banter to conflict, so he just sighed. "Guilty as charged, I guess."

Neville's smirk grew still wider as Lavender and Parvati leaned in to ask who Harry's "French friend" was. It appeared that this really was going to be an exceptionally long day.

* * *

_**Later, in an abandoned classroom…**_

Luckily for Harry, Daphne and Tracey, the rules of the castle had not yet been tightened to an extreme degree. Dumbledore had told Harry that would be happening very soon but evidently, the teachers did not want to insight panic just yet. This allowed the three of them to easily meet up in the abandoned classroom often used by Harry and Daphne for their own meetings. This time, Harry was surprised to find that Daphne had arrived before him. Judging by the way the sea green eyes of the small, strawberry blonde girl snapped to him immediately upon his entrance, he assumed that she was the reason Daphne had been so punctual this time.

"Wow," Harry observed, "I think this might be the first time you've ever beaten me here." Technically, it was the second, but that was beside the point. The other time had been after their Halloween disaster, so neither of them wanted to speak on it.

"Punctuality is the politeness of purebloods." Daphne responded without missing a beat.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Where did a twelve or thirteen-year-old girl learn that expression?"

"My mother." Daphne said. "She says it almost every time somebody is late to something. I knew of it when I was probably six or seven, even though I clearly had no idea what it meant." As she finished her statement, the other girl in the room cleared her throat, drawing the attention of both of the room's other occupants. "Right," Daphne observed, "and this one has so little patience that if you're not punctual, it might just rip your head off."

"I can hear you, you know." Tracey answered with a roll of her eyes, springing to her feet and marching towards Harry, hand outstretched. Tracey actually seemed… surprised, when Harry greeted her in a more traditional manner, something Harry definitely took note of for later. "So you're the reason Daphne's been sneaking off every week." Tracey said, eyeing Harry up and down with what appeared to be rabid curiosity.

"Uh… I guess so. Harry Potter, Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Davis."

"Can we just not use all of the formal stuff tonight, please?" Tracey asked, taking Harry aback once more. "Sorry," she said, seemingly coming to the realization of exactly how blunt that statement had been. "It's just… you get really sick of hearing that after being in Slytherin for a year and a half, and my family's hardly important enough to be looking for an alliance from yours anyway, so…"

In that moment, Harry wondered exactly how Daphne and Tracey were friends. Perhaps there was more to the time old adage "opposites attract". Perhaps that hypothesis really did refer to more than just magnets. Daphne was aloof and carried a cold exterior, at least until she warmed up to you, which took a considerable period of time. Even then, she was very carefully modulated. Harry got the impression that Daphne didn't really have slip-ups. If she wanted you to know something, you'd know it, if she didn't, you wouldn't. Tracey was very different though. She seemed personable to a fault and had practically dove head first into the conversation, throwing any and all caution to the wind. For all Harry could tell, he'd never have guessed the two of them were in rival houses, let alone the fact they had never met before now.

"Uh… sure, if you'd like. I'm not too bothered with them either, really. I just try and err on the safe side, you know?"

"A Gryffindor, on the safe side?" Tracey said, smirking.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well, I don't see every Slytherin strutting about the castle, acting like they own the place. That's just Draco Malfoy. Same with Gryffindor, really. Just because some of us are idiots, doesn't mean that all of us are idiots."

Tracey shrugged. "I guess so, but it's a bit different, isn't it? I mean, bravery and all that is a thing for Gryffindor. Being a prat isn't just for Slytherin, that's just how some people are."

"Bravery doesn't mean you have to be stupid about it, though. Dumbledore was a Gryffindor, and, say what you want about him, but when has he ever run head first into anything?"

Tracey giggled and glanced towards Daphne. "I like this one, Daph! I can see why you two might get along." She turned back to Harry. "You're a Gryffindor, which means you're probably decent. You're smart, but not like Granger. You don't seem like a know-it-all, or anything."

"Um… thanks, I guess." Harry said, scratching his head distractedly. He wasn't quite sure how to handle Tracey Davis, as of yet. "Thanks for the Christmas present, by the way. I'm… sorry I didn't get you anything. I didn't really expect anything from you."

Tracey waved him off. "It was nothing big, don't worry about it. I just wanted to show you that I was more like Daphne and not so much like Malfoy, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry said, "not a prat and all that." Then, he smirked at Daphne, who had thus far just stood by and watched. "Daphne definitely has her moments too, though."

"Careful, Harry." She warned sweetly.

Tracey giggled. "Oh, you have no idea! You should see the things she says about Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy." She smirked maliciously. "And Parkinson; especially Parkinson."

"Tracey." Daphne cut in, but she was far too late. Much like Harry's friends had ganged up on him earlier today while badgering him about his non-existent relationship with Gabrielle, it was now Harry and Tracey's turn to gang up on Daphne, and Harry thought maybe, just maybe, there would be some positives to today.

* * *

_**Some time later, on his way back to the dormitories…**_

Harry had barely made it a corridor down after departing from his meeting with Daphne when a sudden sound caught his attention. On edge as he was, Harry's wand snapped into his hand at once. Mercifully, he spotted two familiar heads of red hair and sighed, willingly following the Weasley twins into an abandoned classroom not unlike the one he had just vacated. "Don't do that!" He exclaimed. "Not with some psychopathic Heir of Slytherin roaming the school, at least. I thought I was about to get attacked!"

"Easy does it, mate." George said with a smirk.

"Yeah, don't fret," Fred added, "I'm sure if the Heir was going to attack you, they wouldn't bother warning you first."

Harry just glared back at them. "You're not helping, you know?"

"Helping, of course not." Fred said, as if affronted. "When has that ever been our intention after being mischievous?"

When Harry continued to look annoyed, the twins exchanged a look, clearly partaking in one of their internal conversations. "Ok, fine." George acquiesced. "We'll try not to scare the living daylights out of you until this whole 'Heir' business has been resolved."

"Lovely," Harry deadpanned, "now, why exactly did you drag me into an abandoned classroom?"

"I think you'll find that you came quite willingly, Harrikins."

"And besides, you'd have known if you were looking at the map."

Harry almost facepalmed; they were right, of course. It had just not become instinct as of yet for him to view the map constantly. It was still a tool that he repeatedly had to remind himself he possessed.

"Speaking of the map," George continued, "that's kind of why we called you in here."

"Well," Fred elaborated, "not the map, exactly, but something to do with it."

Harry crooked an eyebrow, intrigued. "More specifically?"

"Well," George started, "Snape went missing and nobody knows where he is. There are all kinds of wild rumours flying around and we, as the noble pursuers of truth that we are, would like to know if there is anything behind any of these fantastical rumours, or if old slime ball's just taking a day off. Partied too hard, perhaps." Despite the graveness of the situation at hand, Harry almost snorted at the thought. The image of Snape partying was practically an impossibility.

"If only somebody could find out." Fred continued. "Somebody who could… jeez, I don't know — see exactly where every person in the castle is at all times?"

Harry actually did facepalm now. He was such an idiot! If only he'd have thought of the map earlier in Dumbledore's office, they could've known exactly where Snape had been…

"You're having a laugh, right?" George asked, incredulous at Harry's display.

"No," Fred mused with narrowed eyes, "I think he's serious."

"YOU ACTUALLY NEVER THOUGHT TO CHECK THE MAP?" They exclaimed in unison.

Harry winced. "I'm still getting used to just having all of that at my disposal, ok." Harry defended weakly, removing the map from his robes and tapping it with the tip of his wand. "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good." Immediately, the map blossomed to life upon the piece of parchment and Harry quickly gestured for the twins to join him in scanning the map. After several minutes of searching, the trio of Gryffindor boys came to a most startling revelation.

Severus Snape was nowhere to be found on the Marauder's Map.

Harry turned to the twins. "You can't tell anyone about this!" He hissed. "This is serious."

Their eyes narrowed. "You knew about this, didn't you?" George asked.

"That he hadn't just buggered off for the day." Fred elaborated.

Harry sighed. "Yes, I knew, ok. Dumbledore told me this morning because he thinks it's me the Heir of Slytherin wants. He thinks the Heir went after Snape, but seriously, I NEED your word that you won't tell anyone this! Not that Snape's not in the castle, not that you know anything other than the fact that he hasn't been seen today!"

"Harry," George started, "I know we're hardly the paragons of rule following, but this is big. Dumbledore… somebody needs to know about this."

"And they will!" Harry said vehemently. "I just need to drop my stuff off in the dorm and then I'll run straight to Dumbledore's office, I promise."

The twins exchanged looks. "Well," Fred started, "if you're sure.

"I am."

"Then we promise." The twins said as one.

* * *

_**Ten minutes later, in the Gryffindor Dormitories…**_

When Harry entered his dormitory, he knew immediately that something was not quite right. In spite of the revelation, it took him a significant period of time to spot exactly what it was. There was a plain, black book resting on Harry's bed. He frowned, stepping cautiously towards it. He honestly wasn't entirely sure what it was, but he knew for a fact that he owned no such book. When he got closer, he realized it wasn't quite as plain as he thought. There was a name embossed on the front of the book, a name that, for some reason, rang bells in Harry's brain. But still, he couldn't connect it.

_Tom Riddle._

Glancing around the room to make sure it was empty, Harry gingerly took a seat on his bed beside the book. Absentmindedly, he wondered who on Earth would have left him what appeared to be some sort of journal or diary. Ordinarily, he may have connected the dots and assumed it was somebody named Tom Riddle. The thing was, Harry did not know anybody named Tom Riddle, at least not that he was aware of. Sitting beside the book though... it was giving him a definite feeling of unease.

Carefully, Harry withdrew his wand and aimed it at the book, as if worried it may spring at him like some rabid beast. It didn't, and Harry frowned. His arsenal of detection spells was hardly vast, but he knew some of the more basic ones and couldn't imagine that a book like this carried too elaborate of an enchantment. When all of his spells yielded no results, Harry cautiously scooped up the book and opened it to the first page. To his surprise, there was nothing written.

This continued for some minutes. Harry flipped through page after page, waiting to find something, anything written. But he never did. It was odd because still, Harry felt distinctly uneasy, especially since he had started holding the book. There was definitely something not so ordinary about this tome. Harry set the book down and quickly retrieved a quill before returning. He wasn't sure exactly what possessed him to write in the book, but he felt as if that would be what yielded results.

And as oddly specific as the thought may have been, it was indeed correct.

_Hello, my name's Harry._

After about twenty seconds or so, Harry's words sunk into the parchment, causing his eyes to widen as they were replaced by words in the same colour ink, if admittedly in a much neater scroll.

_Hello Harry, my name is Tom — Tom Riddle. I don't suppose you have a surname, do you?_

Harry paused with his quill an inch away from the parchment. This would be foolish. Well, the entire idea of him writing in this book was a bit foolish if truth be told, but for him, a fairly famous public figure to surrender his last name to a magical artifact seemingly imbued with the essence of somebody he didn't know…

_That depends on why you're interested, I guess._

A pause, and then…

_Well, I've heard many things about a certain Harry Potter, one who I've been hoping to speak to for some time now. I've heard that there's a plot that he has most unfortunately found himself in the middle of. I thought I could perhaps be of some assistance to Mister Potter, but if you're not who I'm looking for, is there any chance you could possibly find me the man in question?_

Harry's heart froze at the message. This whole thing seemed entirely too suspicious, too specific. But, if this Tom Riddle knew anything about the plot going on at Hogwarts… Harry didn't have to trust him. It was just a book, after all. It couldn't do him any harm to see what Tom Riddle had to say. If it turned out to be useless, it was hardly the end of the world. It certainly wouldn't put him in any worse a position than the one he was in now.

_This is Harry Potter, yes. I'm a bit… cautious when it comes to talking about plots with a stranger who I don't know. Maybe you could specify the plot to make sure I'm not being misled?_

_But of course. _Tom Riddle wrote back. _That's a wise choice, Harry Potter. I'm talking about the plot going on at Hogwarts. The one involving the Chamber of Secrets._

Harry's heart skipped a beat. _Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?_

_Oh, I know a great deal about the Chamber of Secrets, Harry. More than anybody at Hogwarts right now, at least. You see, I was a student about fifty years ago when the chamber was opened for the first time. You might recognize my name if you've stopped by the trophy room. I actually received an award for special services to the school for a matter closely related to the Chamber of Secrets. More specifically, the capturing of the person who opened it._

And it clicked. That was exactly where Harry recognized the name Tom Riddle from. That wasn't what had his heart racing, though. That would be the fact that this Tom Riddle seemed to know exactly who had opened the chamber the first time. And if Dumbledore was to be believed, that may be an integral piece in solving who exactly opened the chamber this time.

_Tom, if you know who opened the Chamber of Secrets, please tell me! You have no idea how useful this information could be._

_I can do better than tell you, Harry. I can show you._

And moments later, Harry felt himself spiralling downwards into memories, not even remotely prepared for what he would see next.

Harry could not believe the scene in front of him as he watched Tom Riddle turn in Hagrid for opening the Chamber of Secrets. As the scene was ending, Harry shook his head. "No," he muttered, eyes narrowing, "no, it can't be Hagrid. There's no way it's Hagrid. He'd never open the chamber, and he's sure as hell not Slytherin's Heir. Which means…"

"How perceptive of you, Harry."

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and Harry whirled, raising his wand in a defensive posture. Then, the scene around him faded and he was in complete and total blackness. Except for the lone figure standing in front of him. The figure looked to be a few years older than Harry, possibly fifteen or sixteen. He was quite tall and had black, styled hair, dark blue eyes and sharp, well-defined features that made him look regal.

"It was you." Harry muttered.

"You're more perceptive than I'd thought you, Harry." Riddle said softly, eyeing him up and down. "My sources clearly weren't as well-informed about you as I'd hoped. The plan was never for you to learn the truth, simply for you to come closer to the heart of it all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, his voice rising in volume as he started to realize the gravity of this situation.

Riddle shrugged. "Make of it what you will, Harry. All you need to know is that you were too clever for your own good. You were supposed to soak up the sob story and move on, not realize that the oaf Hagrid could not possibly be the noble heir of Salazar Slytherin."

"Hagrid is my friend!"

"Was your friend." Riddle corrected softly. "You have no friends now, Harry. At least, you won't very shortly."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked as his grip on his wand tightened and his posture stiffened as he readied himself for an altercation.

Riddle smiled. "Well, you found out too much. Now, you could put it all together. I don't think you'd quite manage that much, but I've underestimated you one too many times already. And even a partial success on your part could be detrimental to my plans. I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't let you leave this diary."

Harry's jaw tightened. "Tough luck, Riddle. Only one of us here has a wand. I might not be able to make heads or tails of any of this right now, but I bet Dumbledore will when I give him the diary."

"I'm afraid you don't quite understand the arena, Harry. I don't need a wand. You are standing in my mental mindscape. I control everything. The arena, the conditions, the outcome. You are in my domain. I can control every element with a simple thought."

Harry lunged forward and slashed his wand towards Riddle, sending a grossly overpowered cutting curse in his general direction. Instead of blocking, Riddle simply faded straight out of existence, leaving Harry in the vast nothingness alone.

"Riddle!" Harry screamed. "Don't run from me, you coward! Fight back!"

As soon as Harry said this, something smashed into him hard, sending him careening forward. When he tried to stand and see what had hit him, he was grabbed by some invisible force and hurled through the air. Suddenly, a wall solidified just in time for Harry to slam into it, hard, and slump to the floor.

Riddle hadn't been lying. The very environment was on his side.

But then…

He had also said that Harry was in his mental mindscape. Quickly, Harry opened another thought stream, wincing at the stab of pain in his head as he mulled all of this over in seconds. If he was in Riddle's mindscape, that implied metaphysical. That meant Harry wasn't in the diary at all. In fact, he was still likely sitting in his dormitory, probably peering down at the diary with a blank look on his face.

Looking at the diary… mental mindscape…

And just like that, the dots connected.

It was Legilimency.

Well, not true Legilimency, but something oddly similar. Reverse Legilimency, almost. Riddle had pulled Harry into his mindscape, which meant that technically, this was a mental assault, not a physical one. Immediately, Harry tried to clear his mind but found that it did nothing. So it was still Riddle's domain, then. Riddle wasn't in his mind, Harry was in Riddle's, but the latter was controlling what the former saw and experienced. So, what this meant was that Harry had to break the connection on Riddle's end. Which meant that somehow, he needed to take control of the situation.

"Fight me yourself, Riddle!" Harry cried out as he was struck hard across the face. "What are you trying to do, prove my point? Can you not beat a twelve-year-old on your own?" Harry didn't exactly have the highest of hopes that his rather juvenile attempt would yield any results but to his surprise, Riddle blinked back into existence.

"If you wish." Riddle acquiesced, and suddenly, Riddle was twenty feet tall, armed with a sword and dressed in rather ostentatious armour. Before he could do so much as advance, Harry leapt to his feet, having been playing possum a moment later and aimed his wand at Riddle, casting a spell he had never once used before, consequences be damned.

"LEGILIMENS!"

Harry had never used Legilimency before. Both of his two Occlumency texts and his teacher had preached the same philosophy. He would not be learning Legilimency until he had a very firm basis in Occlumency. But, armed with the knowledge that he had to take control of the situation, this was the best way he could think to do so. Plus, it wasn't as if he actually needed the psychic attack to work.

In the second before the spell took effect, Harry had enough time to see Riddle's eyes widen. Then, he was suddenly rushing forward towards those dark eyes. For an instant, Harry saw flashes too fast for him to make sense of. Then, he could feel himself being pulled forward again and instinctively, he knew that he was being pulled into some kind of mental trap. With every fibre of his being, Harry focused on breaking the connection as he turned his head away from Riddle. Immediately, Harry was back in nothingness, but the darkness suddenly seemed… distorted, not quite so solid. Riddle had diverted his attention from maintaining the mindscape to focusing on defending himself against Harry, and that was all the opening Harry needed.

"BOMBARDA!"

Harry fired the most drastically overpowered blasting curse he could possibly conjure up straight into the nothingness and with a cry of pain as he clamped his hand to his head, Riddle fell to his knees before, mercifully, with a gasp much like one may experience after surviving a near drowning, Harry came to once more in the Gryffindor common room, with the seemingly innocent diary laying open across his lap.

At once, Harry slammed the diary shut and thrust it into a pocket of his robes. Then, he scrambled to his feet, throwing his father's cloak over top of himself as he bolted from the Gryffindor dorms, completely ignoring the fact that several hours had very obviously passed, seeing as it was now dark outside. There was only one thought racing through Harry's mind.

Get the book to Dumbledore.

* * *

**Author's Endnote:**

**I know this is a shorter chapter, but it is what it is, really.**

**I'm trying to space all of this out in a manner that doesn't feel rushed, but I also don't want to just throw in filler to make the chapters longer than they need to be. **

**The Chamber of Secrets plot is going to be wrapping up quite soon, so I hope you're all excited for that.**

**Please read and review.**

**PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, July 12th, 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	33. LOS Ch 18: Check

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

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**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

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**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

**In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Instagram aci100ff or by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works.**

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**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 18: Check.**

* * *

_**February 6, 1993**_

_**The Headmaster's Office**_

_**9:13 PM**_

Harry knew that something was wrong before he even reached Dumbledore's polished oak door. The gargoyle had leapt aside without complaint or hesitation, but something did not feel right. That thought only intensified further as he took to the stairs at a flat sprint and emerged on the landing.

No voice prematurely welcomed him into the office.

Desperately, Harry hoped that Dumbledore's age had simply caught up with him at long last and that he had merely decided on a nice relaxing nap. Realistically, Harry knew that was not the case. He doubted Dumbledore would be sleeping much at all tonight. Not with what the Chief Warlock viewed as his inevitable removal from his position as Hogwarts Headmaster looming on the horizon. And surely not with the Heir of Slytherin running around the school. Certainly not now that they had proven themselves able to defeat one of Hogwarts's most talented professors in open combat. Loathe as he was to admit it, Harry was not blind to Snape's obvious talent. The fact that a student had bested him did not sit well with Harry. Nor did it encourage him in regards to his prospects against the same, mysterious assailant.

With all of this racing through his mind, Harry knocked hard on the oak door several times. Normally, Harry would show decorum. He would perhaps knock again and then, if no answer was given, he would retreat back the way he had come and wait to discuss this business the next day with Dumbledore.

But this was not a normal occasion.

Nothing about that diary had been normal.

Whatever it was, Harry knew that somehow, some way, this mysterious diary had some connection to the Heir of Slytherin. And if he trusted anyone to put those pieces together, it was Dumbledore.

It was this which enabled Harry to justify the complete abandonment of any and all decorum as he threw open the door to the Headmaster's office and quickly scanned the room, looking for the man in question. To his dismay, Dumbledore did not seem to be present. He was not going to give up that easily. Harry thought that perhaps, Dumbledore had quarters off of the office. Stepping further into the room, he cast his eyes around, looking for any potential nook or cranny that may connect this study to a more personal set of quarters.

Then, with a jolt, Harry's mind flashed back to the conversation with the twins, and he actually swore aloud at his idiocy. With a flourish, Harry removed the map from his robes and quickly scanned it for the dot belonging to Albus Dumbledore. For a second, Harry saw nothing. Terrifying thoughts of Dumbledore somehow suffering the same fate as Snape, whatever that might be, flashed through Harry's mind. If the Heir had bested Dumbledore, then he really did not stand a chance at all. But mercifully, he found him, and his eyes narrowed.

Dumbledore was outside the castle. The path he was taking seemed to be leading him towards the edge of the Hogwarts grounds. Surely he couldn't be leaving? He had been certain that the Board of Governors met every Sunday night, and today was Saturday. But then, Harry saw the other dot on the map, and his confusion only grew. It was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Harry had no idea what he could be doing here, but on the night after the petrification of Hogwarts' resident Potions Master, Harry thought it safe to assume that in one capacity or another, Fudge was here for reasons concerning the Chamber of Secrets.

But if that was true, Harry held information in his hands that was potentially essential to the investigation. So with no further thought, Harry threw his cloak back over his robes, assured he was still in possession of the diary and began the trek down to the ground floor and out of the castle at record-breaking speed. On most occasions, such a statement would be a blatant hyperbole. Tonight, however, with the aid of the map, Harry was actually quite certain that he truly did make the trek in record time. After all, he had literally used passages he had never known existed before that night.

Thankfully, he was out on the grounds in no time, though to him, it felt like an eternity. With another glance towards the map, Harry realized that Dumbledore and Fudge were walking the path to Hagrid's hut.

And then it clicked as dread closed around Harry's heart.

The Ministry had expelled Hagrid last time. It made perfect sense. Obviously, Dumbledore had argued in his stead, which was probably why he was allowed to keep his job as Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts instead of ending up in a far less comfortable cell in Azkaban. Now, with the reemergence of the threat that was the Chamber of Secrets, the Ministry had returned.

And as best they knew, they had only one viable suspect…

Harry redoubled his efforts to reach the hut quickly as these thoughts flashed through his mind. As he drew close, he realized that he could actually see the figures of Fudge and Dumbledore as they approached the door to the hut. Then, just as Harry was within earshot of the duo, the door opened, and Hagrid omitted the two of them inside. He had also greeted them with a crossbow, something that actually caused Harry to internally wince. If Hagrid was trying to look innocent, that was most certainly not the way to do it.

Once Fudge had stepped inside, Dumbledore followed, but he did so at a deliberately slow pace. When he was sure nobody was watching, the Hogwarts Headmaster cast a sideways glance over his shoulder. In response, Harry allowed his disembodied hand to show for only a fraction of a second. He remembered how Dumbledore had somehow noticed him on Halloween and assumed, with relief, that the same thing had happened here. Dumbledore nodded minutely and allowed the door to close slowly enough for Harry to slip inside the hut. As he did so, however, the Headmaster cast a look towards Harry that was very obvious in its meaning.

Stay quiet.

Immediately, Harry wanted to object. He wanted to rip the cloak off and pronounce to Fudge that he had actual proof Hagrid was not the Heir of Slytherin. Honestly, how they thought Hagrid was the Heir of Slytherin in the first place was quite baffling. Riddle must have truly had some reputation for the then Headmaster, Armando Dippet, to believe him. Or perhaps the old man with white hair from the memory had already gone a bit senile by that point. Harry really knew nothing of him, so it was impossible to say one way or another.

"Terrible business, Hagrid." Fudge was saying. "With all of the petrifications going on and the disappearance of a Hogwarts Professor, by Merlin, you must see how this looks?"

"I didn't!" Hagrid moaned. "I'd never! Professor Dumbledore, you know I'd never!"

"I have full and complete faith in Hagrid, Cornelius." Dumbledore agreed, and Harry actually felt a shiver run down his back. The intensity in Dumbledore's voice and stare was awe inspiring.

To Fudge's credit, it did not dismay him. Well, he blustered for a moment, but he did manage to recompose himself with admirable proficiency. "Be that as it may, Dumbledore!" Fudge exclaimed. "Your faith is neither here nor there. We have to look as if we're doing something!"

And in that moment, Harry lost any and all respect he had for Cornelius Fudge.

Positive publicity was one thing, and it was certainly valuable, most of all for somebody in Fudge's unique position. But never could Harry justify falsely incriminating a man for acts you could not prove he was responsible for simply for some publicity. "I'm sorry, Hagrid." Fudge continued. "If the attacks keep up, you'll be returned to the castle right away. You have my word."

"Where are ya takin' me, then?" Fudge suddenly looked rather guilty and was suddenly hesitant to speak. Harry and Hagrid realized the answer at the exact same moment. Dumbledore had obviously known, or suspected, since he did not react. "Not Azkaban?" Hagrid moaned.

"If you've done nothing wrong, Hagrid," Fudge said sheepishly, "you'll surely be back to the castle in no time. You won't be in a high security cell, I-" Fudge's voice was cut off by a sudden knock on the door. Hagrid reached for his crossbow, but Dumbledore caught his eye and shook his head. Instead, the Headmaster himself opened the front door and admitted the newest entrant.

"What's he doin' here?" Hagrid asked, outraged as soon as he saw the visage of Lucius Malfoy enter his hut. For his part, Harry had much the same question as Hagrid.

"My, my," Lucius drawled, "so confrontational for somebody in such a… compromising position."

"I don't want ya in me house, Malfoy."

Lucius sniffed. "House? Is that what you'd call it, Hagrid." He sneered as the giant man flushed. "I assure you, I will be out as swiftly as possible. I have no intention of spending any more time in your… house than strictly necessary."

"What is it you are here for, Lucius?" Dumbledore asked and for the first time that night, he did not seem quite as confident as usual.

"I'm here on behalf of the board, Headmaster." Lucius said promptly. "Terrible business what's going on. All of us wish to see it cease immediately. Despite your… many talents, you've thus far been completely ineffective in your efforts to apprehend this… Heir of Slytherin."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "They have proven rather elusive, yes. You can rest assured, however, that I will not rest until I am indeed more effective in apprehending them."

"How… noble of you." Lucius said with a bow. "Though I'm afraid the matter is now out of your hands, Dumbledore." In an overly dramatic fashion, Lucius Malfoy withdrew a rather immaculate piece of parchment, which he promptly handed to Dumbledore. "As you can see, you've unfortunately been the victim of a unanimous vote of no confidence."

Harry actually gasped, but thankfully, Hagrid's outraged reaction drowned him out. In the moments following the revelation, Dumbledore shot a hard, firm look towards Harry. He was very clearly instructing his protege not to interfere and if Harry had to guess, it was very clear that nothing could transpire that would change Dumbledore's outlook on that.

"I must confess, Lucius, that I did indeed see such a vote as inevitable given… recent events. I was, however, under the seemingly false assumption that the board only met on Sunday evenings?"

Lucius's lips thinned. "Ah, yes, that is usually the case. In light of the… tragic disappearance of your Potions Master, we decided an emergency meeting was in order."

Fudge was spluttering. "See here, Lucius! We can't remove Dumbledore! The attacks will only worsen if he's not in the castle."

"I'm afraid the vote was unanimous, Minister. Even if I retracted my vote, which I am frankly not inclined to do, our dear Headmaster still loses by a wide majority."

"And how many of 'em did ya have to bribe and blackmail, Malfoy?"

"Hagrid," Dumbledore warned. "now is not the time for such bickering." Dumbledore turned to Lucius. "If the board wishes my removal, Lucius, I shall of course willingly step down." Then, he glanced in Harry's direction. "I think you will find, however, that I will only ever truly be gone from this castle when none here are loyal to me."

Dumbledore and Hagrid shared one last, significant look before they exited. Hagrid seemed rather confused, but spoke anyway, as if he too had somehow realized Harry was present. Silently, Harry wondered whether or not Dumbledore had informed him of just that with Legilimency. "I… uh… if anybody wanted to find anythin', all they'd have to do is follow the spiders. Tha's all I'm gonna say."

Minutes later, Hagrid and Dumbledore had both respectfully been led off the property. To Harry's horror, Lucius Malfoy did not immediately leave. In fact, when all others had vacated the hut, he assured them all that he would be with them in just one moment. Then, to Harry's terror, he raised his wand.

"Homenum Revelio."

Harry did not know of that spell but by this point, he knew enough Latin to figure it out, for the most part.

It must be a spell to reveal human presences, or movement, or something similar.

But then, Harry realized he must have interpreted the spell wrong. Whatever effect Lucius had been going for, it obviously didn't work. For a second, the man looked annoyed, but then, he was recasting his spell. When it came up empty again, he shook his head slowly, sweeping out of the hut and after Dumbledore, Fudge and Hagrid.

As Harry comforted the boarhound, Fang, once all of the previous occupants of the hut were out of earshot, only one line stuck out in his mind.

Follow the spiders.

* * *

_**February 7, 1993**_

_**The Room of Requirement**_

_**7:03 AM**_

Once Harry and Neville had completed their morning workout, Harry filled his brother in all but blood in about all the occurrences from the previous day. His account was honest and unfiltered and by the time he was done, Neville was pale and rather weak looking.

"What are we going to do?" He moaned. "No Dumbledore, Hagrid being suspected, and that diary… what are you gonna do with it, exactly?"

Harry paused. "Give it to McGonagall, I guess. My plan was to let Dumbledore have a crack at it, but since he's gone, McGonagall is probably our next best bet." He was sure that they would find out for certain at breakfast, but it appeared as though it would be McGonagall replacing Dumbledore at the helm of the school.

Neville seemed to hesitate before asking his next question. "And what about what Hagrid said? Follow the spiders. Are you going to tell McGonagall that?"

Harry hesitated. "I… don't think so. It's not that I wouldn't rather she looked into it, but I just don't think she'll take me seriously. I think I'm gonna have to investigate on my own."

"No offense, Harry, but how the hell do you plan on doing that? This castle's probably going to be in lockdown within the next couple of days now that everybody realizes Snape has gone missing."

"The cloak." Harry answered without having to think about it. "I'll scout the spiders out over the next few days, or for the week, or for however long it takes. Then, when I've figured out their pattern, I'll follow them with the cloak."

"B-b-but what if they lead you right to the Chamber, then what?"

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. "I'd love to say I'd run back and get McGonagall, or Flitwick, or both, but part of me thinks that it'll be me against the Heir in the end, no matter what I do."

"I'm coming with you!" Neville proclaimed.

Harry blinked. "You're… what?"

"Don't be like that! I'm coming with you! I didn't start killing myself every morning for nothing. You always say that you trust me — prove it."

"Neville," Harry said carefully, "I don't want you to get-"

"To get hurt? Harry, if we can't stop the Heir of Slytherin, who knows who's going to get hurt next. Who's to say it won't be me anyway? If the Heir really does want to get to you, going through your best mate is probably a pretty decent way to do it." He scowled. "Or Dean, he's a muggleborn, and he's my friend too!"

There was a span of time that stretched on for about thirty seconds in which Harry and Neville stared intently at one another. Harry was waiting for any hesitation, anything that he could jump on to persuade Neville against his chosen course of action. After that time had passed, he saw none, so Harry could do little more than sigh.

"Fine, but I'm pushing it back a bit then. Me and you are spending at least the next week practicing curses, defenses, and duelling."

Neville set his jaw. "Let's get started then."

* * *

_**Several hours later…**_

After what Harry considered to be a very productive few hours of practice, he and Neville began to work their way back towards the Gryffindor common room, intent on finding their other two friends. Neville had come a long way in the several hours in the Room of Requirement and if nothing else, Harry could take that as a small, moral victory. After Neville's spot of danger at the end of last year, anything Harry could do to help ensure the safety of his best friend was essential in his eyes.

About halfway to the common room, Harry removed the map from his pocket and activated it. He had already shown Neville the map, but his eyes still followed it with interest. Harry noticed two dots on the map quite close to him and Neville. When, two corridors down, the dots continued to follow them, Harry stopped. "You two can come out now." He said and with matching snickers, the Weasley twins stepped out from behind a suit of armour.

"Look at you go." Fred commented wryly. "Finally realized how useful the map is, eh?"

"You could say that, yes." Harry said, thinking that after last night, he probably wouldn't go very long without checking the map. "What is it?" He asked them, not missing how eerily similar this was to the day they had given him the map, as well as their conversation yesterday. Both of those occasions had been fairly serious, so Harry correctly assumed that this was no different.

A few minutes later, the four of them were locked up in an abandoned classroom and the twins began their pitch after explaining that, at breakfast, McGonagall had officially taken up her role as Interim Headmistress. According to her, the school would soon be on a full lockdown. Unfortunately, such things had to be passed through due process, so for now, the lockdown was not yet in place. Apparently, it had also been announced that they had a new potions professor on the way, but she had not yet arrived. Aside from her gender, McGonagall had given nothing about her away.

"But anyway," George said, "onto the real reason why we dragged you here, as you'll probably put it." Harry actually managed a weak smile in reminiscence of the last time he had been dragged off by the twins less than twenty-four hours earlier. "You remember the duelling club that Lockhart tried to start up?"

Harry's lips thinned. "Vividly." He said, sounding an awful lot like a certain missing Potions Master.

"Well," Fred jumped in, "with everything going on, me and George thought it'd be a good idea to restart it. What, with this Heir of Slytherin dickhead running around the castle petrifying people, we thought it might be a good idea to practice, you know?"

Clearly, George realized what Harry was thinking, for he jumped in before Harry could cut down the idea. 'Yes, yes, we know it's probably not going to help us beat the Heir right now. But, who knows? It could make the difference. Maybe we could last long enough to cry out for help? And plus, even if it doesn't help us against the Heir, defense is bloody useful. It's a good life lesson, even if it doesn't help us right now."

Harry was torn. It would likely be of no use against this Heir of Slytherin and with the castle soon to implement airtight security, it could be a logistical nightmare. But then again, he'd wanted to be able to practice duelling more than once a week for some time. And now, with this inevitable increase in security, he viewed the prospect of being able to continue weekly lessons with Flitwick as highly unlikely. With that in mind, Harry would need training partners if he wanted to be at his absolute best.

"We're not the first ones you've approached about this, are we?"

The twins shook their heads in unison. "Angelina, Alicia, Lee, Oliver and Katie have already agreed."

Harry sighed. "If I accept, and I won't speak for Neville, but if I accept, how are we not going to get caught?" He knew perfectly well how he wasn't going to get caught. When combining his cloak of invisibility with the map, he was practically undetectable. Especially if that spell from Malfoy had done what Harry thought it had. That was something he should look into. It was not a pressing matter by any stretch, but something to explore.

"Well, you have the map." Fred said reasonably. "And we know the castle better than anybody. We can get the older kids there if you can get yourself and Neville there if he wants to join."

"And our brother and your other mate." George added. "If they're down, of course."

"I'm in." Neville said at once, not even waiting for Harry's answer.

The twins smiled broadly as Fred clasped Neville on the shoulder. "That's the spirit, mate."

Harry sighed. "Well, I guess I'm in too, then." He said with exasperation. "Neville's good at a lot of things, but subtlety isn't one of them. If I don't help the prat, he'll get caught the first night and get all of you in trouble."

Despite his glare, Neville was laughing just as hard as the other three as they all exited the abandoned classroom.

* * *

_**February 9, 1993**_

_**The Great Hall**_

_**8:12 AM**_

To Harry's slight dismay, the full castle lockdown had begun that very next day after his conversation with Fred, George and Neville. On the upside, this would hopefully lessen the threat of the Heir of Slytherin. On the downside, it had made giving McGonagall the diary near impossible. Harry's only option would be to sneak out and find her at night while she was patrolling the corridors. This would raise so many questions on her end that he might not even get the chance to give her anything before he was sent back to bed with a month's worth of detentions. He would have to wait and hope an ideal opportunity presented itself. For now, the diary was locked away in his trunk, protected with a Parseltongue password, something he'd implemented soon after the duelling club fiasco.

Presently, Harry was drafting a letter to Dumbledore on the matter of the diary as everybody else around him ate. He thought that at the very least, Dumbledore might be able to get McGonagall to listen to him. Or, failing that, he could hopefully advise Harry on what to do next. This was assuming, of course, that an owl could actually reach Dumbledore. Honestly, Harry had his doubts on that front. If Dumbledore had left Hogwarts, Harry suspected that he was hidden behind a remarkable set of wards. But, there was always the hope that he was wrong. Currently, Harry thought clinging to that hope sounded far better than drowning in the seemingly ever present wave of despair that had ravaged the castle for the past number of months.

To his slight surprise, Harry was distracted from his meal by the arrival of two owls. One was Hedwig, and she had Augusta's reply to the letter Harry had written her several days ago clamped in her beak. The other owl was one that Harry did not recognize. It was elegant and somehow looked regal as it presented its leg pompously. Bemused, Harry removed the letter from said owl, but he did still read Augusta's letter first.

It was blunt and to the point.

_Harry,_

_Do not go and needlessly risk yourself over this hogwash. As despicable as the man is, Snape is talented, extremely so, even. If this mysterious attacker bested him, it is best you stay out of harm's way and allow the situation to resolve itself. I'm afraid that if it doesn't very soon, there will be no need to worry, because Hogwarts will be closed. I've heard rumblings of it over the past few days. I think they're just waiting for one more attack before it happens._

_Stay safe and don't do anything foolish._

_Augusta_

Harry felt a painful vice close around his heart. Hogwarts couldn't close. It was home for Harry. Sure, he had the comfortable confines of Longbottom Manor, but Hogwarts held a special place in his heart. He was not remotely ready for the inevitable despair that would accompany the closure of the school.

With a dark look to Neville that signified he would explain later, Harry opened the second letter, which was at least more pleasant than the first, if admittedly just as surprising for Harry.

_Dear Harry,_

_I had hoped you would write to me sooner, but I suppose I should start the exchange of letters, since you don't seem to believe that I was being serious. _

_First of all, are you okay? Papa heard that Albus Dumbledore is no longer Headmaster of Hogwarts because of a teacher disappearing mysteriously. We don't have many details in France, but I hope you're doing okay. I know that you are close with the Chief Warlock, so I hope that isn't bothering you too much, even if you're not physically in trouble._

_Aside from that, how have you been since the gala? How was your Christmas and how are your classes? I don't suppose you've learned how to vanish objects yet?_

_Write back soon,_

_Gabrielle_

Admittedly, Gabrielle was right. Harry had not been entirely convinced that she had been serious when asking him to write. Part of him had suspected it to merely be formality or out of obligation. Because after all, why would somebody like her bother with him? Did she not have far more interesting uses of her time? But still, her lighthearted jab about the vanishing spell drew a small smile, even if part of him fumed that no, he had not yet figured that out. In his defense, he had been rather preoccupied about other matters. Which raised the question, how much to tell her? For now, he thought that simply answering that he was perfectly alright and that things were a bit uncertain would suffice. The reminder at the bottom of the page of how far ahead of him she was did give him an idea though, one that manifested in the final line of his return letter.

_P.S. There was a spell that I sort of saw used a few days ago and I had never heard of before. I thought you might know it, since you're a few years ahead of me and what not. The incantation was Homenum Revelio._

* * *

_**February 10, 1993**_

_**The Gryffindor Common Room**_

_**10:16 PM**_

Hermione took a heavy seat beside Ginny with a humph that caused the other girl to wince. "Ginny, what's going on?"

"W-w-what are you talking about?" Ginny asked.

Hermione glared. "Ever since last Saturday, you've avoided me. Every time I see you or try to talk to you, you're… different. It's like you've lost all of your confidence and you're scared of your own shadow. It's like you're a different person." When she said this, Hermione could not help but notice the way Ginny winced.

"It's nothing." Ginny said hastily. "Just this whole Heir of Slytherin business, you know? It's got me n-nervous."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She did not believe Ginny, not in the least. "Where's that book of yours?" She asked.

Ginny's head snapped up as if she had been shocked. "B-book?"

"Yes, book." Hermione pressed. "You know, that plain black one you always carry around. What is it anyway? A diary?"

Ginny nodded demurely but did not answer Hermione's question. With another humph, Hermione swept to her feet and left. Clearly, Ginny wasn't in the mood to talk. Perhaps the loss of her diary had upset her, or something? In fact, the last time Hermione remembered seeing Ginny with the diary was… right before she stopped avoiding her.

* * *

_**February 12, 1993**_

_**An Abandoned Classroom**_

_**8:13 PM**_

Unfortunately, with the enforced lockdown of Hogwarts, the Quidditch season had been cancelled. The upside to this was that Fred, George, Oliver and possibly the girls, Harry wasn't sure, had managed to spend enough time devising wards over the past few days that now, the abandoned classroom in which they all stood in was protected extremely well. Harry had contemplated offering the Room of Requirement as a destination, but that was a secret he'd really rather keep to his close knit group of friends, at least for now. He may have still offered it had it come to that, but luckily, it hadn't. The older students assured Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville that no professors would be finding them.

After this explanation, the first thirty or so minutes of their meeting were spent drilling some basic defensive spells. Then, the twins, being the masters of chaos that they were, proposed some mock duels.

"Let Harry duel one of you lot." Ron said immediately. "He'll trounce the three of us and I wouldn't mind seeing him lose for once."

"I'll duel you." Katie told Harry. "It's the most fair thing. I'm only a year ahead of you, so it should be competitive."

Harry shrugged, but his heart rate quickened. Here was his chance. It was easy to tell against Moody and Flitwick that he was improving, as he was lasting longer and longer and doing better and better each time. But still, it was hard to gauge exactly how good he was when duelling such outstanding wizards. Now, duelling Katie, who should, in theory, be able to beat him without too much trouble, might be a good gauge. On paper, he should lose, but she was no prodigy and was a good benchmark to see how he might fare against older students. She was quite talented among her yearmates. Near the top of her wanded subjects, but not the top of the year, per se. This left Ron to duel Neville, Alicia to duel Angelina, Lee Jordan to duel Fred, George to duel the sixth year, Oliver Wood, and Dean to sit out the first round. He would duel the winner of Ron and Neville next.

Ron and Neville went first. It became evident very early that Ron was in over his head. He had improved a lot this year and was among the top tier of Charms students in the year, but Neville was on a different level in a duel. He and Harry had practiced Defense quite a bit this year. Neville had obviously spent quite a lot of time practicing on his own as well, and the countless hours they had put in this week within the Room of Requirement probably helped. As a result, Neville bested Ron quite easily. To his credit, Ron took it like a sport and Fred and Lee went next. Again, this was a mismatch. For all of their trouble making, the twins were actually ridiculously talented. True, they were not the best academic students in their year. Harry thought that if they actually applied themselves in the theoretical portions of each class, that might well change. With this in mind, it was not overly surprising when Fred bested Lee without much trouble. Then, Harry and Katie stepped forward and Harry's heart rate quickened once more.

As soon as the duel started, Katie jumped to the side, attempting to blindside Harry with an Expelliarmus from an odd angle. Harry easily rolled under the spell, taking them all aback. Clearly, nobody else had trained in combat. It was a fairly standard maneuver, but not one you would likely know unless you practiced. When Harry came up, he shielded, allowing Katie's barrage of spells to splash harmlessly against his shield. Then, he leapt out from behind his shield and countered. He chained a stunner, disarming spell and full-body-bind together. Katie dodged the first two and managed to just barely shield the third. Harry's eyebrows rose. Protego was a fourth year spell. When taking into account that he himself had learned it in his first year, he supposed it wasn't terribly surprising that as a third year, Katie knew of it. Still, it might make things more interesting. Perhaps it was time for Harry to up the action a little bit.

For another minute or so, the two traded spells. Katie had not managed to get Harry with anything, but Harry had opened a cut on her arm with a well placed Diffindo. Then, he saw the opening he needed. When Katie lashed out with several spells, Harry did not shield, as she obviously expected him to. Instead, he dodged to his left, avoiding the first two. As the third, a full-body-bind which was right on track to hit him in the chest neared, he batted it straight back at Katie. Shocked and panicked, she hastily erected a shield, but that, in the end, was her undoing.

"Bombarda."

The bolt of red energy from Harry's wand blasted straight through Katie's shield, throwing her back about ten feet and sending her wand skidding from her hand. Harry lunged forward and seized the wand, mentally adding the summoning charm to his list of things to learn. Honestly, after Gabrielle had used it at the gala, it should have already been there. He was actually about to learn it anyway, as he was making his way through the fourth year curriculum in Charms, but it had just become a priority. In any case, Katie had been beaten and to say she was surprised was an understatement. As she put it, it hadn't even been close. The crazy thing, to Harry, was that he hadn't even used non-verbal casting.

So the test had been conducted. It turned out, he was good.

After Harry and Katie, George and Oliver duelled. This was the most intense duel of the lot and clearly the most skillful. After more than ten minutes of frantic back and forth, Oliver managed to subdue George, but the fourth year had given the sixth year more than a scare. Next, Angelina and Alicia duelled. This one lasted somewhere between five and ten minutes and was also extremely competitive. Eventually, Angelina managed to disarm Alicia, thereby ending the duel.

"One more round?" Fred asked, eliciting nods from the gathered students. "Harry, my fine fellow," Fred said with a wicked grin, "care to play with the big boys?"

Harry nodded curtly, not acknowledging the taunt as he squared off with Fred. He was a year older than Katie and very obviously more skillful. This would be by far the best opponent Harry had duelled if one disregarded Flitwick, Moody and Quirrell. This became evident early on. For the first three and a half minutes, Harry was pretty much forced onto the defensive. Fred actually wasn't using many high level spells, per se, but, he was creative to a fault. He was using minor spells in ways Harry would have never even thought of. His duelling style was chaotic and unpredictable which, in retrospect, Harry probably should have expected. Only when Fred conjured ropes, then lit them on fire with the Incendio charm before trying to entangle Harry did the younger lion realize he had a true fight on his hands.

"Aguamenti!" He countered, dousing the flaming ropes before sidestepping and continuing his spray of water. Fred, unwilling to get doused in similar fashion to his flames shielded. Harry fired a Bombarda once more, but he put a very low amount of power into it. Of course, Fred did not realize that. He did exactly what Harry had hoped for. He dropped his shield and made to lunge out of harm's way. Unfortunately for Fred, he had finally decided to put non-verbal casting to the test. He had frozen the water which had pooled around Fred's feet. As a result, one-half of the Weasley twins went head over heels and for a second, it looked as though Harry would win. That was until, to his shock, Fred seemed to split in two before landing. Suddenly, Harry was duelling two of Fred and he realized immediately that he would lose.

He kept up the duel for another minute or so, but without knowing which Fred to focus on, he was wasting time and energy trying to fight both. Eventually, he chose wrong, allowing the real Fred to snare him in ropes and end the duel. Still, according to the gathered crowd, Harry's performance had been more than impressive.

"Harry," Oliver had said, "Fred is one of the best students in his year with practical magic and he's two years older than you. You duelled for five minutes and it was a nail biter. Hell, you might've won if not for the doppelgänger charm."

"Outrageous!" Fred protested with a smirk. "I'd never have lost to Harrikins. I'd have found another way." It was said in a way that was very obviously a joke, so Harry just smiled back, but there was a sort of competitive edge to his expression.

"I'm going to figure out how to counter that spell." He promised, silently remarking that it was the second time that spell had been his downfall. "And when I do, I'm going to trounce you."

Fred smirked. "You can try, Harrikins. You can try. I'll still wipe that cocky look off your face though."

Harry's grin only broadened. "The last time I had this cocky look on my face, Fredikins, was at the feast." His grin turned predatory. "We all know how that competition went, don't we?"

* * *

_**Several hours later…**_

Harry and Neville stayed behind for about an hour after the rest had vacated the room and returned to the common room. Neville was working on chaining spells together while Harry was working on the bone-breaker. Still, he had been having no success with the spell. He was clearly doing something wrong, but he was not sure what. It wasn't like he could go and get books on the spell, either. They were all held up in the Restricted Section. But after an hour of repeated failures, Harry resolved to sneak into the Restricted Section that night under his cloak and find books that may have something to say on the matter.

For now, Harry and Neville were sneaking back to the common room under Harry's family cloak. That was until Neville elbowed Harry hard in the ribs. For a second, Harry thought they were about to be attacked. His wand flew into his hand in an instant but a second later, he realized that he had overreacted. As far as he could tell, there wasn't anything troubling anywhere near them. When he peered curiously at Neville, his best friend gestured to the line of spiders creeping down the hall.

"Do we follow them?" Neville asked. Harry nodded and the two of them followed the spiders. They followed them until they realized that they were retreating out onto the grounds. Neville made to follow further, but Harry grabbed his arm. "What?" Neville hissed.

"Not now." Harry insisted.

"Why not?"

"We're not prepared. We should scout them for a few days. We know we were on the second floor when we saw them, so that's a good place to start. We'll follow them for the next day or two. Then, when we're sure it's a pattern and they're always going to the same spot, we'll follow."

Neville blinked. "That's… really clever, actually."

"Why the tone of surprise, Neville?"

Neville smirked. "You didn't really think about things last year, did you?"

Harry sighed. "Nope, you've got me there. I've learned though. Constant vigilance, Neville. It's all about constant vigilance."

* * *

_**February 14, 1993**_

_**The Great Hall**_

_**8:27 AM**_

Honestly, Harry had thought Hogwarts couldn't get any worse. Then, Gilderoy Lockhart had decided to turn the Great Hall pink. If that wasn't bad enough, the idiot had actually hired dwarves to deliver Valentine cards. Truly, Harry sometimes wondered what level Gilderoy Lockhart's idiocy could reach. Worse still, Harry knew immediately that he was going to have the mickey taken out of him all day when Gabrielle's owl delivered what he assumed to be her reply. He had made the mistake of telling Neville who the last letter had been from, and the prat now recognized the owl. Seriously, did it have to come in on Valentine's Day? That was literally ideal material for Neville.

Sighing, Harry opened the envelope and read the reply.

_Harry,_

_I hope everything clears up at Hogwarts. It's terrible, a Professor going missing and the Chief Warlock getting blamed for it. I just hope you do your best to stay safe._

_I do know what the Homenum Revelio charm does, yes. I'm very curious to hear where you might have picked it up though. It's not even a fourth year spell. Homenum Revelio is a spell that detects any person around you. It detects human presences by searching for a soul. It spreads outwards from your wand like a wave. If it is able to interact with a human soul, it is triggered. I know of no way of avoiding detection, in case you are curious and please do not try to find one. I know you probably are not aware of it, and I really should not even bring it up to you, but there is a branch of magic involving the soul. It is disgusting magic. The blackest magic imaginable. I don't believe in "light and dark" magic, but there are definitely some things you should stay away from. Please trust me on this, Harry, and I'd love to hear the story around the Homenum Revelio spell. _

_Oh, and I will make it easy on you. The incantation for the vanishing spell is Evanesco — you're welcome._

_Stay safe and in touch,_

_Gabrielle_

Harry's brows furrowed. He had never heard of soul magic, as Gabrielle had suspected. He was curious why she was so adamant against it, but he would take her word for it. He was curious about the whole "light and dark magic" thing, too. It wasn't something he had actually looked into, but he assumed dark magic was a thing, not a belief. That was definitely something to explore at a later date.

And how on earth had he unknowingly evaded the Homenum Revelio if even Gabrielle, a girl older and more knowledgeable than him had no idea how to avoid it?

All of these thoughts were washed from his mind when he saw Neville's mischievous grin. Before he could start in on him, Harry leaned towards his friend, making up his mind in an instant. He had scouted the spiders over the past few days and was fairly sure he had figured out where they were going. And honestly, with all of this pink nonsense going on, he needed to do something productive today. Or, at the very least, have something productive to do that night which he could think about all day to take his mind off the Valentine's Day drama.

"Tonight." He whispered to Neville before he could take any digs at Harry.

Neville obviously got his meaning, for his face hardened and it seemed as if all plans to tease Harry had been forgotten.

All in all, Harry considered that interaction a success.

* * *

_**Late that night…**_

Sneaking out of the castle had been child's play for Harry and Neville. The use of the cloak in combination with the map made the practice positively trivial. Unfortunately, this meant that Neville had nothing to worry about. As a result, he teased Harry mercilessly. Not only about Gabrielle Delacour, but about that god forsaken Valentine he had received earlier that day in the common room, in front of the entirety of Gryffindor House.

"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad." Seriously, what was wrong with people?

Fortunately, as the two second year Gryffindors drew nearer to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Neville seemed to lose any and all motivation to tease Harry. "You're sure this is where they're going?" Neville asked for the hundredth time that day. In reply, Harry lit his wand without a word, raising it high above them and illuminating the steady line of spiders that were creeping into the forest. Neville scrunched up his face. "I don't like this." He muttered. "Not even a little bit."

"Honestly," Harry whispered back, "when me and Ron had to go into the forest last year for detention, it didn't actually seem that bad. The only scary thing we ran into was Voldemort. Since he's gone now, I don't see much to worry about. We'll just hope the spiders stay on the path."

"And there you go again," Neville muttered, "challenging Gran's damn gods of irony."

Harry rolled his eyes and laughed, but it did not last long. Within five minutes, the spiders had strayed from the path, and Neville had actually glared at Harry, as if the entire thing was his fault. As they were led further and further into the depths of the Black Forest, Harry wondered for just how long the forest stretched on. The foliage seemed to grow thicker and thicker the further they walked, and the forest quieter and quieter.

Harry didn't like it.

It gave the impression that at any moment, they could be ambushed by some wild, rabid beast. Of course, the unfortunate truth of the matter was that such a thing absolutely could happen.

Just as that thought crossed Harry's mind, there was a rustling of branches. Harry whirled to draw his wand but before he could, Neville cried out, causing him to spin in the other direction to check on his brother in all but blood.

And that was Harry's mistake.

When he turned, the massive thing behind him had a chance to grab him and hoist him off his feet before he could draw his wand. Harry struggled but it was fruitless. The monstrosity that was now carrying him effortlessly further into the forest was massive and overwhelming. Up ahead, Harry saw that Neville too was being hauled along. Then, with widened eyes, Harry realized what had attacked them.

Giant spiders.

And when he said giant, he meant GIANT! Like… the size of an elephant kind of giant. Immediately, he ceased struggling. It would be useless and would accomplish nothing more than wasting energy he could hopefully use at some point. His wand was safe in his holster. If the spiders gave him even an inch of separation, he could summon it to his hand instantaneously. But then what? What spell did Harry know that would be any use against something of this magnitude? Flagrete, perhaps? It was a controlled fire spell, but in the heart of a forest, he was hesitant to resort to that option. Personally, he wanted to escape alive, not be burnt to a crisp by his own spell in an attempt to defend himself and his friend against these monsters. Perhaps if he had to...

As an opening of sorts appeared ahead, a vague, crazy plan began to form in Harry's mind. It seemed too simple, but it might just work.

That was, if he could somehow verify that the necessary components were nearby.

Before he could think too much further, Harry was dropped by the spider. Thankfully, he managed to roll when he hit the ground, so he avoided serious injury. Neville did not land as gracefully, but he too appeared fine. For a split second, Harry was confused. Surely the spiders wouldn't just let him go and give him a chance? But then, he realized why.

There was a complete ring of spiders surrounding them on all sides.

They had nowhere to go.

Then, the spiders all began to call out in their own, unique language. A few moments later, a large, rather old looking spider emerged. The hair on his legs and torso was greying and his eyes were milky white. Harry thought he must be blind, but it was of no advantage to them given how many other spiders they would have to deal with.

"Why have you come?" The old spider asked, shocking Harry when it spoke in English.

"We-we were told to." Neville said, his brain kicking into gear before Harry's.

"By whom?" The spider asked, clearly disbelieving.

"Hagrid." Harry said, remembering that Hagrid tended to much of the forest. Perhaps he knew these spiders somehow? Perhaps he had some sort of cordial relationship with them.

Immediately, a hush seemed to fall over the crowd of monsters and Harry thought he may have succeeded. "Hagrid sent you here?" The spider asked again in its raspy voice, clearly still sceptical. "Why?"

"The Chamber of Secrets." Harry answered, deciding to go for it. He needed to stall for time, if nothing else. When he uttered those four words, a wave of unease seemed to spread among the monsters' ranks. Harry took the opportunity to lean in towards Neville. Hopefully the ring of spiders around them, who were all suitably distracted, obscured them from the seemingly leader's view. "Please tell me chestnuts might grow in this forest?"

Neville actually took a moment to stop looking panicked and instead look confused. "What?"

"Just answer the question!" Harry hissed.

"Um… probably? They were introduced to the British isles by the Romans, so…"

"What about the Chamber of Secrets?" The lead monster boomed. "What has happened? Where is Hagrid?"

"The Chamber's been opened again." Harry said. "Students and staff are being attacked. It was opened fifty years ago-"

"I am well aware." The spider cut him off. "Where is Hagrid?"

"Gone." Harry answered. "They thought he opened it the first time but he got off because Dumbledore used his influence to spare him. This time, he couldn't. He's been sent to Azkaban, the wizarding prison. But before he left," Harry said hastily, cutting in before the spider could get in another word, "he said if anybody wanted to find anything out, they should follow the spiders."

The spider's were in a buzz now and it took several minutes for their leader to corral them. "You are friends of Hagrid, then?"

"Yes." Harry answered at once, sensing some sort of connection between the monster and the groundskeeper.

"And what do you hope to learn, friends of Hagrid?"

"How students are being petrified." Harry answered at once. "I know it's not Hagrid, but we need to prove it. If we can prove that it's not him, he might be freed."

The spider seemed to hesitate. "It is no magic that is doing this." The spider said at long last. "It is a beast-"

"What kind of beast?" Neville asked at once.

"We do not speak of it." The lead spider said at once. "It is a monstrosity the likes of which we fear above all others."

That was at least something. Find out what these spiders were, find out what they feared, and connect the dots.

That was one thing that Harry could do.

"Thank you." Harry said graciously. "This information will help us free Hagrid." He paused. "You're going to let us go to free him, aren't you? If we can't leave, he might not be free."

"I cannot deny my children food, friend of Hagrid." The monster said as dread filled Harry's heart. "But," he continued, "I will not let Hagrid rot in that cell for a crime he did not commit. You may leave, speaker." He said, clearly addressing Harry. "But we are taking your friend as compensation."

There was a split second when Harry and Neville exchanged looks. For a moment in time, it seemed as if Neville was going to agree. Before he could, Harry was already in action. "Yeah, sorry, but that won't be happening." Then, before the spiders could do so much as move, his wand had snapped into his hand.

"Accio Chestnuts!"

Then, before the spiders could advance on them further, Harry conjured fire with the Flagrete spell, doing his absolute best to keep it under control while focusing on the summoning charm. He had worked on it extensively over the weekend, as he had promised himself he would. Thus far, however, he'd only worked on summoning objects to him that were within his line of sight.

There were no chestnuts within his line of sight. In fact, they could be scattered anywhere through the vast forest. Hopefully, desperation would serve as an excellent learning tool.

Fortunately, the conjured fire was buying them time. Enough time for Harry to begin picking off huddled groups of spiders with banishing hexes. He'd tried stunners, but had pretty much immediately realized they would be ineffective.

He couldn't keep it up for long though.

Dozens of them were advancing from all sides, and he couldn't fight them all at once. For all of his talents in defense, Neville just did not have spells in his arsenal that could be of assistance at this point. Mentally, Harry noted that would have to change rather soon, if possible.

Just as the spiders began to close ranks once more, a high pitched cry went up somewhere from the clearing. Seconds later, hundreds of chestnuts streaked into the clearing. At once, Harry began to banish them in dozens at large groups of spiders. Within a minute, they had retreated, and the path for Harry and Neville to escape was nearly clear. Desperately, the two of them took the opening. As they ran, Harry banished more and more chestnuts at spiders, which held them at bay long enough for Harry and Neville to make it out of the clearing. For his part, Harry kept summoning chestnuts every few minutes until they had once more reached the perimeter of the forest.

Only when they stepped back out onto the open Hogwarts grounds, now once more under the Potter invisibility cloak did Neville turn to Harry. With some pride, Harry realized that Neville did not appear overly winded. Clearly, the workouts from Mad-Eye were beginning to take effect. "Not that I'm complaining," he said, "but what just happened?"

"Spiders hate chestnuts." Harry said, in way of explanation. "It's a natural repellent. I figured if I could summon enough of them and surprise the spiders with them all at once, it might buy us enough time." He shrugged. "Honestly, I wasn't a hundred percent sure it would work on magical spiders, but I had to try. I couldn't think of anything else."

Neville nodded. "Yeah," he muttered, "that would work." Harry almost laughed. Neville, the Herbology nut that he was, seemed genuinely troubled that the thought hadn't crossed his mind.

"Don't worry about it." Harry told him. "You did what you had to do. I needed to know if they grew in those kinds of forests. If anyone could tell me that, I knew it would be you."

Neville smiled weakly. "Just because I'm curious, how did you actually know that?"

Harry's expression grew dark. "My aunt used to use them to ward off spiders." Harry left out the bit about him sneaking them into his cupboard at night for the same purpose. "But anyway," he said, "that's not important, let's get up to the castle."

* * *

_**Minutes later, in the Gryffindor dorms…**_

Harry knew even before he entered his dorm that something was terribly wrong. He couldn't explain why, he just did. Still, as much as he expected something unpleasant, the last thing Harry expected was for the spiders to at once be relegated to only the second most important revelation of the night.

When he entered the dorm, he froze, horror dawning his face. His trunk, which had been protected by a Parseltongue password, was somehow open, turned on its side, and had seen all of its contents spilled over the floor.

Worse still, there were two other beds that had been ransacked.

Ron's and Dean's beds had the sheets ripped off. In the case of Ron, his sheets were tattered and torn. But that was not the worst part.

The worst part was that the two of them were conspicuous by their absence.

And the writing on the wall, of course.

_We have danced for too long, Harry Potter. I think it's time we end the charade._

_Nearly all of your pieces have been removed from the board, leaving me open to strike you next. If you would like to recover said pieces before they are broken and discarded, you have exactly six hours to do so._

_Oh, and here's a hint, Harry — upon his death, Dean Thomas will be the second mudblood to have died at my hands over the last fifty years at Hogwarts. The first just so happens to still inhabit the castle._

_You better move fast, Harry, or you're going to lose the game._

_Check!_

Harry would not find out until sometime later, but there was still one more rather troubling revelation.

The only thing missing from his trunk was Tom Riddle's diary...

* * *

**Author's Endnote:**

**Thank you guys so much for 1k followers on this story! Hopefully, we can keep that number climbing at a decent rate.**

**I am SO SORRY this is coming out two days late. I had a power outage that lasted for nearly 20 hours which pretty much screwed me over in terms of my upload. **

**Well, this story really did go from zero to one hundred fast, huh? :)**

**Oh, and for those of you who don't know, chestnuts actually are a natural repellent for spiders. Granted, their effectiveness is kind of a contested topic among some. Still, I thought it was a rather creative take on the spider scene, as well as a realistic one that didn't require Harry learning some outlandishly unrealistic magic at this point in his development. **

**Next chapter, titled, "Checkmate" will feature the confrontation in the Chamber of Secrets!**

**Please read and review. **

**PS: The next chapter will be posted on Sunday, July 19th, 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	34. LOS Ch 19: Checkmate

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

**In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Instagram aci100ff or by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works.**

**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

* * *

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

**Parseltongue.**

_Memories/In Story Text._

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 19: Checkmate.**

* * *

_**February 14, 1993**_

_**The Second Floor Girl's Bathroom **_

_**11:57 PM**_

Hermione Granger was thoroughly annoyed. Not only had it been an exceptionally long day, with Professor Lockhart's Valentine's Day festivities serving as a major distraction for the majority of said day, but she had just been woken up by an extremely persistent owl scratching on the window of her dormitory. When she had opened the window and admitted the creature inside, she had removed the note with a frown of worry. It was a note from Ginny. One asking rather urgently to meet in the same bathroom that they once brewed Polyjuice Potion in.

Hermione's immediate reaction was to not go. After all, a full curfew was in effect. Breaking the rules was not a practice Hermione was well-versed in, let alone getting caught for breaking said rules. But Ginny was her friend; her only friend, really. It was true that Hermione was rather suspicious by now. She had put together, by this point, that the diary was in some way influencing Ginny. To what extent, Hermione wasn't sure, but she had slowly been putting the pieces together in the past few days. Now, with a chance to confront Ginny about it and hopefully get some closure on the topic, she could not resist.

That was the sequence of events that led to Hermione Granger standing outside the girl's bathroom with an odd feeling of foreboding. Pushing it to the side, Hermione slid open the bathroom door and stepped inside.

Then, a second later, she froze in awestruck shock and terror.

There, both seated against the far wall, seemingly bound and unconscious were Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas. There was a fair bit of blood trickling from a wound on Ron's hairline, but aside from that, the two of them looked untouched. Her attention was caught when the door she had just walked through slammed forcefully closed and she heard the lock click. With terror in her heart and a horrific realization slowly coming together in her mind, Hermione methodically turned to face the only other figure in the room.

"Ginny?"

"Good evening, Hermione." Ginny's voice was still her own, but it was very clear she was not in control of herself. It was what Hermione had noticed before, but so much worse. Before the disappearance of her diary, Ginny had been confident and well-spoken, for the most part. After it had vanished, she had changed completely. Only when the change happened did Hermione realize that something may have been wrong. Now, what she knew to be the irregularities in Ginny were turned up to eleven.

"You're not Ginny, are you?" Hermione asked in a slightly shaky voice.

Ginny smiled. "You're too clever, Hermione. Far too clever for your own good, at least."

"What have you done to Ron and Dean?"

"Nothing yet." Ginny said calmly. "For now, they're only stunned. That will change soon enough, but they are in perfect health for the time being."

"It was you then, wasn't it?" Hermione asked, terrified. It was not the first time the thought had crossed her mind. Ginny had seemed far too prodigious for a first year student. Then, the diary had gone missing and Hermione had realized she was being magically manipulated in one way or another.

"And that, Hermione, is exactly why I can't just let you walk away. You see, I had a plan that involved Ginny giving up her little diary for the time being. When it didn't go as I had hoped, I needed to get it back to her. That only happened tonight, and I just so happened to notice a conversation you had with Ginny in the common room. You were onto the truth even then, Hermione, you just weren't ready to admit it to yourself. Still, after what's going to happen tonight, I can't leave any loose ends who know more than they should."

"But why?" Hermione asked. "Why are you doing this? Petrifying all of the students? Who even are you?"

"My name is not important to you." Whoever was controlling Ginny dismissed. "Your other questions are more interesting, though. I'll confess, Hermione, I don't really care about petrifying mudbloods or professors. They were all pawns to get to my final play. Unfortunately for you, it will play out while you're… indisposed."

Hermione could sense the attack coming, so she scrambled for her wand, admittedly not too well-read in curses and defenses. She was a very good Defense Against The Dark Arts student, but other subjects had always interested her more. And naively, she had always assumed that she would never end up in a position quite like the one she found herself in now.

Before she could draw her wand, however, Hermione was hit in the back with a jet of red light. As she fell, the figure of a handsome man with blonde hair and blue eyes flickered for an instant, as the movement caused his disillusionment charm to falter.

* * *

_**Some time later, in the Gryffindor dorms…**_

Harry did not react for almost a full minute as he stared at the writing on the wall. His first action was to briefly scan the contents scattered on the floor as he did his best to maintain a clear mind and ignore the fact that his heart seemed to be putting in an admirable effort at beating straight through his chest.

To say that he was horrified when he realized that Riddle's diary was gone would be an understatement.

But to say he was surprised would have been a blatant hyperbole.

How they had broken the enchantment necessitating a Parseltongue password was beyond him, but Harry somehow wasn't surprised the diary was what the Heir of Slytherin had wanted.

Least of all now, as the pieces came together in his mind.

Harry actually let out a scream of frustration and rage as he grabbed the nearest textbook and hurled it at the wall as hard as he could. Seamus Finnigan had clearly been put under some sort of sleeping spell, for he did not so much as move as the book slammed loudly off the wall.

"H-Harry?" Neville asked, voice shaking as he regained enough control to speak.

"It's my fault." Harry whispered, terrified and overwhelmed by self-hatred. "I'm such an idiot! I should've seen it… I could've stopped it — all of it."

"Harry!" Neville said in a louder, more clear voice. "What is going on? What are you talking about?"

"The diary, Neville." Harry uttered in a toneless sort of voice. "That's what's been doing it the whole time."

Neville blinked. "What?"

"Fifty years ago, Tom Riddle opened the Chamber of Secrets and framed Hagrid, getting off scot free. Obviously, we knew that already. But I didn't see the connection! Riddle's diary used Legilimency… or something like it, I think. Flamel told me at Christmas that Legilimency can be used to alter the mind of another person and even influence their actions. Riddle was so worried that I saw through his memory because it's been him the whole time! That's how Dumbledore knew the Heir was a he, but he couldn't tell me that because of contracts with the stupid Ministry. Somehow, a student got their hands on Riddle's diary. He's been controlling them all year through the diary. Which means..." he paused. Obviously, Riddle must be the Heir of Slytherin, and therefore a Parselmouth. There had been a moment when Harry's mind had connected the dots, and he had been sure that Riddle had used that ability to bypass the ward on his trunk.

But that couldn't be right.

It seemed, at least to Harry, that Riddle was confined to the diary unless he had somebody to control. While locked in Harry's trunk, there was no possible way he could have controlled anybody with mind magic and forced them to somehow use Parseltongue.

Which meant…

"And he's got help, of some kind. My trunk was warded and had a Parseltongue password. Nobody's a Parselmouth here except me and him, but he was locked in the diary, which was locked in my trunk, so obviously, it couldn't be him. Somebody who knows how to break wards is helping him. Or… or he's got someone under the Imperius Curse or something and can still control them while inside the diary."

"How do you know all of this?" Neville asked, astonished.

"I… actually don't know." Harry admitted, realizing that this was one of many times that a number of dots had simply come together in his mind. Perhaps he was just some sort of deductive genius? "But it doesn't matter." He dismissed, actually slumping to his knees and burying his head in his hands. "I had the diary! I could've stopped it all right then! I should've got rid of it, destroyed it, given it to a Professor like I'd planned… something! Now, the bastard has Ron and Dean and it's my fault — all of it! When will people stop getting hurt because of me? My parents, you, Augusta, now Dean and Ron. When will it stop!?"

There was a long moment of silence in which Harry allowed himself to remain slumped and defeated on the floor. For his part, Neville's brain was in overdrive, making sure he'd understood everything his friend had laid out correctly. Then, after a minute or so had passed, Neville's jaw set in a line of resoluteness. With calm, measured steps, Neville made his way towards his friend and rested his hand on Harry's shoulder. He frowned at the way Harry flinched, but he did not remove his hand.

"I don't know when it'll stop, Harry." He said honestly. "But it can at least be paused if this Heir of Slytherin is stopped. Come on, we can do this! You've figured all of this out; we're almost there. We just need a little bit more. If anyone can do it, it's you."

Harry took about twenty seconds to compose himself. Twenty seconds to allow himself just a few more moments of weakness. Then, with one last deep breath and a stiff nod, Harry climbed back up to his feet and Neville could have flinched backwards. The ever present emerald light that seemed to forever dance behind Harry's eyes seemed to be flickering like a flame. Plus, the light itself seemed to have been turned up a notch. It appeared as if Harry's eyes would burn straight out of his skull at any moment.

"Okay..." he muttered, "okay, think Potter, think. We know Riddle is the Heir of Slytherin. We know he's been controlling students with the diary. That means that honestly, it doesn't matter which student it is, so we don't have to worry about that until we're done with Riddle. So that means… two more things to figure out. Where the Chamber of Secrets is, and what the monster of Slytherin is. Personally, I don't like our odds in a fight if we don't even know what we're fighting until we get there."

"Agreed." Neville said. "Your first question's been answered though, I think."

Harry blinked. "Um… what? Haven't Headmasters and Headmistresses failed to find this Chamber for centuries?"

"Well yeah," admitted Neville, who seemed almost eerily calm under the oppressive pressure of this situation, "but they didn't have this." He gestured at the wall and Harry reread the message.

"I don't get it." He murmured.

"He's killed a muggleborn already." Neville said. "And SHE still inhabits the castle. Don't you remember Parvati going on about how annoying that ghost was that haunted the girl's toilet? Don't you remember how she said it made no sense why she was in the castle?"

Harry actually slammed his hand against his forehead in annoyance. "Damn!" He cursed. "It all makes sense! She haunts the bathroom on the second floor, doesn't she?" Neville nodded. "That's the same floor we found the spiders on. Which would make perfect sense, if they're running from whatever monster is in the Chamber." He paused. "But… how the hell do we figure that part out? It would take ages to find all the information in the library."

"I think I've got that part covered too." Neville said, actually smiling a rather proud smile. When Harry looked bemused, Neville just rolled his eyes. "Honestly, for how smart you are, you really need to get better at using everything you can. The Room of Requirement, Harry!"

Harry's jaw actually fell agape. It was true. Last year, when he'd needed specific information, the room had actually presented him with books on that exact information. Apparently, whatever deductive genius ability he had was used up for the night. "This is going to be a long night." He muttered, snatching the cloak and throwing it over top of himself and Neville. "A REALLY long night."

* * *

_**An hour later, in the Room of Requirement…**_

Harry was white as a sheet as he looked down at the cross-referenced information he and Neville had in front of them.

The giant spiders, as it turned out, did not fear much.

In fact, it seemed they were only widely known to fear one creature…

A basilisk.

A fucking basilisk!

A massive snake that had scales capable of resisting almost any kind of magic. A snake that could grow up to fifty feet long. A snake who's venom would kill a witch or wizard within a minute of injection. And a snake who could kill anything and everything with a glance.

"We're dead." Neville muttered, finally seeming to accept the reality of the situation. "How the hell are we going to beat that? Even if we get McGonagall, what is she gonna do against something like that?"

It seemed that tonight, the momentum seemed to switch between Harry and Neville. Now, it appeared as though it was Harry's turn to boost his friend's confidence.

"We have an advantage McGonagall doesn't have." Harry noted.

Neville gaped at Harry. "Oh yeah?" He asked in a rather high voice.

"Basilisks are notorious for being easily controlled by Parselmouths." Harry read aloud.

Neville looked up sharply. "You reckon-"

"That I can completely control it? No, probably not. Me and Riddle will probably both be battling for control of the thing. It might actually side with him if he's the Heir of Slytherin. But I don't need too long. I'll go in and you'll be under the cloak, behind me. Not even the human detection spell can pick up the cloak. I'll distract Riddle and if he calls the snake, I'll confuse the living daylights out of it with Parseltongue, at the very least. It'll be up to you to get to Riddle, or the diary. I'm not sure if we'll have to beat whoever he's controlling, or destroy the diary, or what. Might not hurt to do both, honestly."

"And we're not going to get McGonagall because…"

"Two reasons. One, we probably can't. The professors have all warded their quarters since Snape was attacked. At least, that's what the twins told me and I trust them on stuff like that. Even if we could, it wouldn't be any good. McGonagall would never let me go down there. Without a Parselmouth, she'd be dead, almost for sure." He paused. "Three reasons, actually. If she finds out a basilisk is under the school, she'll probably order it to be closed tomorrow."

Neville sighed. "I'm gonna say this one more time tonight, and then we're gonna do this because at this point, I'm so beyond thinking with my brain. I don't like this… not at all."

* * *

_**Minutes later, on the second floor…**_

As quietly as the pair could manage, Harry and Neville entered the girl's bathroom on the second floor. Immediately, Harry wished he'd actually asked Gabrielle how to cast the human presence revealing charm, not just to specify what it was. He had the unmistakable feeling that they were being watched, though he knew that while the two of them stayed under the cloak, they could not be spotted.

Unfortunately, this exploration was going to require that at least one of them stepped out.

Harry decided that if they were going to get attacked, he would have a better chance in open combat than Neville. So it was he who stepped out from under the cloak of invisibility and immediately raised his wand as he peered curiously around the room.

Nothing happened.

Tentatively, Harry began to examine the room more closely. At first, he was having no success. There was just too much to look for. Raising his wand, Harry silently cast the Muffliato charm on the room, intent on calling for the ghost of Moaning Myrtle. Before he could call her, however, it was Neville who cried out.

"Harry, behind you!"

Instinctively, Harry rolled, allowing the well aimed stunner to miss him by inches. When he rolled up to his feet, he noticed a distortion in the air.

"Finite Incantatem!"

Harry's well-aimed spell countered the disillusionment charm, revealing Gilderoy Lockhart with a rather blank expression as he raised his wand to attack once more. Harry deflected Lockhart's full-body-bind and countered with a chain of spells of his own. Lockhart deflected or blocked them all without issue and Harry's eyes narrowed. He was certain Lockhart was a fraud. So why was he proving such a capable opponent? The man hadn't even been able to fight pixies! Then, he took note of the vacant look on Lockhart's face. It must be he whom Riddle had control over to help him. Harry doubted he was the one being controlled by the diary, but perhaps the Imperius Curse.

Harry deflected several more spells before leaping to the side and unleashing a torrent of fire towards Lockhart. With a long, sweeping motion, Lockhart doused his flames and transfigured his wave of water into tightly wound ropes of the same substance. Harry tried to evade but he wasn't fast enough. The ropes entangled him quickly and he fell, struggling against the cold bindings of water.

"Stupefy!"

Neville threw off the cloak as he fired his own stunner towards Lockhart. Surprised, Lockhart turned, only just managing to bat the spell aside and not being fast enough to avoid Neville's follow-up impediment jinx. Unfortunately, Neville moved to help Harry, which gave Lockhart enough time to recover. Then, in the next instant, his wand was aimed at Neville as he turned away from Harry. In that same instant, Harry managed to counter Lockhart's water ropes, now able to cast without the fear of Lockhart stunning him as soon as he went for his wand.

Unfortunately, Lockhart's full attention was on Neville. Neville shielded against a full-body-bind but had to dive to the side as Lockhart's blasting curse tore straight through his shield. Then, Neville raised his wand, immediately bailing on that idea as he was forced to dodge left to avoid a stunner.

That also meant that he dodged directly into the path of Lockhart's banishing hex.

The spell sent Neville sailing backwards and slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch. With terror, Harry watched as Neville slumped to the floor, a thin trickle of blood streaming down his face. Harry saw red as he stood to his feet, now able to hear the blood rush in his ears from the fury conjured up by the image of his best friend, crumpled and lifeless.

Fury… red… crunch…

"OZIO FRACTO!"

Ozio Fracto, or the bone-breaker, had given Harry hell for weeks. When, the night after his mock duels against Fred and Katie, he'd looked in the restricted section, he'd found that his problem was the esoteric nature of the spell. In order to successfully cast the bone-breaker, one must truly have the intent to harm behind it. The easiest way to conjure up said intent was to force oneself to feel strong, negative emotions. Anger in particular seemed to work well, if the book was to be believed. Try as he might, Harry had found the practice exceedingly difficult.

Until Gilderoy Lockhart had presented him with oh-so-perfect motivation.

The bolt of crimson light shot from Harry's wand with enough force to make his wand recoil. Lockhart whirled to raise his wand, but he wasn't fast enough. Unable to dodge in time or to conjure a complex shield, Lockhart quickly conjured the Protego in a hasty effort to defend himself. The curse ripped straight through the shield as if it wasn't even there and a split second later, it made contact with Lockhart's wand hand with a sickening crack. The man screamed as his wand fell to the floor. For a moment, Harry stood transfixed as he looked at the mangled bones in Lockhart's hand and heard the cacophony of screams coming from the man's mouth. Then, as the urgency of the situation returned, Harry flicked his wand and silenced Lockhart with a wordless stunner.

At once, he scrambled towards Neville, quickly doing his best to heal the wound on his head with a basic Episkey. Fortunately, the blood did cease streaming from Neville's head. Unfortunately, Neville did not so much as move. Luckily, his pulse was still as strong as ever. With a deep sigh, Harry stood. It appeared as if his deepest suspicions had been true all along.

It really would be him against the Heir of Slytherin.

"MYRTLE!"

Almost at once, a translucent figure rose from out of one of the cubicles. Clearly, the bespectacled former Hogwarts student had been observing the happenings in her favourite dwelling for some time now.

"Yes?"

"I need a favour from you, Myrtle?"

"What kind of favour?" She had a constantly suspicious, forever pouty sort of voice.

"I need you to tell me how you died."

For a second, Myrtle looked stricken, and Harry suspected he had overstepped. Then, her face split into a wide grin. Why she took so much pleasure in telling him that she had seen large, yellow eyes, he did not know. The only thing he needed to know was where the Chamber entrance was. Thankfully, her tale narrowed it down greatly.

* * *

_**Minutes later, far beneath Hogwarts Castle...**_

When Harry reached the bottom of the slide, there was a period of time in which he stood with his eyes closed, waiting for any sound that indicated movement. When none made themselves present, he very slowly opened his eyes, privately reflecting as he did so that this was the second straight year he would be confronting some form of evil underneath Hogwarts. Like… seriously? Somebody needed to investigate down there.

After several more moments, Harry crept down the long, carved corridor, his cloak of invisibility serving as a method of protection, at least for now. He figured the basilisk would still be able to smell him, but that was a different matter altogether. It was then that Harry noted to learn a charm that masked one's scent. That was, if he escaped from this alive, of course.

When he saw the massive snake skin, Harry very nearly shed his own, but he managed to compose himself quickly and continue along the path. Finally, after about five minutes of walking, he came to a massive set of stone doors marked with rather ostentatious serpentine carvings.

"**Open." **Harry hissed, and the doors obediently parted. Peeking through his fingers to be sure, Harry realized that mercifully, there did not seem to be a basilisk looming in the shadows. Granted, the room in front of him was massive and full of high, dark columns. Any one of them could likely be obscuring the monster from his view, but he tried not to think about that as he crept forward. He was perfectly aware that any advantage his cloak might give him had been forfeited the moment he opened the doors. It was not a quiet process, and was impossible not to notice. If Riddle was here, he'd know he had a visitor.

And seeing as there was only one resident Parselmouth around, he would also know the identity of said visitor.

As Harry neared the end of the Chamber, his breath caught in his throat.

If he'd thought the entrance was ostentatious, it paled in comparison to this. Standing in front of him was a beautifully carved statue of stone. It was about twenty feet tall and depicted a man with a very long beard. It did not take a deductive genius to realize that the statue must have been a depiction of Salazar Slytherin himself.

But that was not what cut Harry short.

There were five figures at the feet of the statue.

Four of them were bound and gagged. One was Snape and another, to Harry's confusion, was Hermione Granger. The other two were very clearly Ron and Dean. All of them were obviously unconscious. Harry felt his heart rate quicken as blood surged to his ears once more. But he did not rage.

He was too dumbstruck by the appearance of the fourth figure.

Ginny Weasley laid motionless at the feet of Salazar Slytherin with no bindings in sight. She was pale and shaky and looked as if the very life was being drained out of her.

Just then, Harry was distracted when a silver dagger materialized from nowhere and slid under Ron's chin. For a fraction of a second, Harry thought it would slit his throat. But then, it paused.

"If you'd like to ensure the survival of your friend," said a calm, cold, familiar voice, "then I would recommend revealing yourself, Harry Potter. If you do this, both of your friends will survive. For now, at least."

Harry did not hesitate in removing the cloak. Whatever it took, he was going to get Ron and Dean out of here. And the others too, he supposed. If that meant he had to leave himself exposed and vulnerable in the process… well, he'd known the risks when he'd entered Slytherin's fabled Chamber.

"Riddle!" He snarled in way of greeting as soon as the cloak was removed and discarded. His wand was in his hand but to his dismay, Riddle too was armed. There was something about him, though. He was not entirely solid, per se. He seemed more than a ghost, but certainly less than a person. There was also the rather troubling issue of how he was there in the first place. "What are you?"

"A memory." Riddle answered simply. "When it is broken down to its simplest form, the diary is little more than a container. A container left by my sixteen-year-old self with the purpose of containing my essence in hopes that one day, it could serve to reopen the Chamber of Secrets and fulfill Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"You haven't, though." Harry countered. "Nobody's died. Petrification is temporary. When the Mandrakes are ready, everybody will be brought back to life. The best case scenario for you is that the school closes."

Riddle quirked an eyebrow. "And what, Harry, is the worst case scenario?"

"That I end this now." Harry answered with a shocking amount of finality.

Riddle just smirked. "Ah, the naivety of youth. I was naive once too, Harry. Even at the time this diary was created, I was still clearly naive. Naive enough to believe that the most important thing was to see the purging of filthy blood from this school."

"You haven't purged-"

"Aren't you listening, Harry? Haven't you been keeping up these past number of months? Perhaps I gave you too much credit. I was worried, you know? First, that you would figure it all out. When it became clear you had pieces of the puzzle but had yet to connect them, I knew I had to move. But still, I worried. This time, I worried you might not be clever enough to put them together in time." Riddle's dark, intense eyes found Harry's. "If you've yet to realize, Harry, I don't care about petrifying mudbloods anymore. I gave up on that ambition months and months ago. For months now, as I have made very clear as of late, my only true target has been you."

Harry scowled. "Why me, Riddle? Why am I more important than your stupid blood purist nonsense?"

Riddle's lips twitched, but he gave no further reaction. "I have wanted to meet you properly for some time now, Harry Potter. Ever since Ginny Weasley told me all about her new friend. She idolized you, you know? Every interaction between the two of you was measured. She was so worried at coming across as a typical fan girl that she tried to do everything in her power to be genuine while still doing her best to please you." Riddle frowned. "How she did not find herself in Slytherin, I sometimes wonder. Not a bad mind, either. She realized after too long that the diary was affecting her. Unfortunately, my grip on her was far too strong by that point. I admit, I did have quite the scare when the diary fell into your hands."

"You tried to trap me."

"Yes and no." Riddle said, clearly amused. "I was, in essence trying to trap you, but not in the way you may suspect. You see, I'd wanted to show you the memory of Hagrid. I'd hoped you would go looking after that. My hope was that soon, you would find the Chamber of Secrets and we would meet in the flesh, in a manner of speaking."

"But how would that have happened?" Harry asked, frowning. "How would you have gotten out of the diary if it was locked in my trunk." He paused. "Come to think of it, how did you get out of the diary when it was locked in my trunk?"

"Ah, you are clever, Harry, but you missed several pawns in your evaluations of my moves. Though I suppose there's no way you could have seen them. Not unless you'd successfully breached my mind with that little stunt of yours in my mindscape. It was clever, but you'd never have breached my shields. In any case, let me enlighten you as to what you've missed, Harry. As I am sure you're now aware, Gilderoy Lockhart is under my control. He has been for weeks. He was actually supposed to deliver you to me when you entered the bathroom. Evidently, I underestimated you once more."

"He's working for you, then? Is him being a fraud just an act, or something?"

Riddle laughed harshly. "Oh no, Gilderoy Lockhart is every bit as pathetic as you think he is and more so. You see, he did none of those amazing things in his books, as I'm sure you've gathered. What you might not know is that other people did do those things. Other people who now conveniently remember none of it."

Harry took a sharp intake of breath. "The memory charm." He breathed.

"Precisely." Riddle said with a smirk. "It is quite a useful charm, after all. Aside from Imperiusing the fraud, I've used his favourite spell a number of times this year. Why, your friend, Ron Weasley, for instance." Harry's jaw tightened. "I admit, he put up quite the fight when he was woken by a mysterious assailant in the middle of the night over the Christmas Holidays. It took quite an effort to subdue him, but of course, he remembered none of it after the fact. I also attempted to use it on your Potions Master, but his Occlumency negated the spell, something I never even realized was possible.

"But that's less related to your question. I took hair from your friend and brewed Polyjuice Potion, much like I did through Ginny with Miss Granger earlier in the year to learn some additional information. When you locked the diary away in your trunk, I still maintained my control over Lockhart. I had him watch you closely. When he noticed some irregular behaviour with yourself and Mister Longbottom, I knew at once. It was then that I had him dispatch Weasley in the restroom and take his place with Polyjuice Potion. That was when he deduced that you and Longbottom would be out that night, doing Merlin only knew what. So he went back and recovered Weasley and placed him under the Imperius Curse and let him go about his business as normal until you and your friend vacated the common room. From there, it was quite simple. Weasley evaluated your trunk while mentally informing Lockhart and myself through the mental connection forged by the Imperius Curse that you had left. I admit, Harry, a Parseltongue password was rather ingenious. Where you failed was not installing more wards on top of the one necessitating a password. It was quite easy to break.

"After that, I had Weasley cut himself to add to the scene and attack your friend Thomas. They waited in this restroom while Lockhart placed poor Ginevra under the Imperius Curse. She was… rather unwilling to take back the diary. She wanted to warn you, but couldn't quite work up that legendary Gryffindor courage." Riddle was definitely smiling now, and Harry's blood boiled the more he spoke. "Once Ginny was under my control, it was quite simple. She opened the Chamber of Secrets and allowed your friends to rest here with your Potions Master while we waited. Granger got suspicious in the meantime, so she joined them. She too is rather clever. She got too curious after noticing inconsistencies in Ginny, but oh well. From there, it was simply a matter of waiting for you."

Harry's mind was working at top speed. It was so complicated, so convoluted, but so perfect. "And you had Snape attacked because the memory charm failed?"

"I did, yes. I was also curious; Snape's Occlumency had interested me and I wished to question him on it."

"Question him? How did you get him down here then? Surely he didn't just let you stun him? Or did you sneak into the Hospital Wing?"

"Neither, I'm afraid. I set up a rather obscure tracking charm on Snape, not one that is detectable. It is blood magic, of a sort. When his blood started flowing at a rate fast enough to imply frequent movement, I was alerted. From there, I ambushed him with Slytherin's monster. He never stood a chance."

"But that doesn't make any sense." Harry argued. "The basilisk's stare kills."

"I admit, my plan was to make him believe he was about to die at the hands of the serpent, whom I am very impressed you came into knowledge of, before stunning him myself. Snape made the second part negligible. It was quite ingenious, really. A basilisk's stare only kills if it is met directly. That's how all the mudbloods have been surviving this whole year. They've all seen it in a reflection. The cat in a puddle, the photographer through his camera, the Hufflepuff through the ghost. Snape conjured glass at the last possible second. The stare melted straight through it, but it was enough to spare his life. Slytherin did leave antidotes down here. It was quite easy to reverse the process. Unfortunately, he was unwilling to talk no matter what… method I utilized. His Occlumency is astoundingly impressive, so I wasn't going to get anything out of him in that way either. So, for now, I've magically sedated him. For all intents and purposes, he's brain dead for the time being.

"So, needless to say, I had several reasons for attacking him. It also had the wonderful side effect of getting Dumbledore out of the castle. He never did like me when I was at Hogwarts, and still to this day, I find him rather bothersome. Mind you, he'd have been gone soon anyway, but it certainly sped up the process."

"Why go through all of that for me?" Harry asked, circling back to his original question. "Why am I this important to you, Riddle?"

Riddle smiled indulgently. "Yes, I've monologued quite enough, haven't I? I'm going to kill you, Harry Potter, but first, you're going to answer some very important questions."

"And if I refuse?"

Riddle shrugged. "I'll get the information from you one way or another. And don't lie, Harry. I'll know if you lie."

Harry set his jaw. He would talk, for now. If he kept Riddle talking, perhaps it would give him enough time to figure something out.

"First question," Riddle asked, leaning towards Harry as his eyes gleamed, "how is it that a baby with no incredible magical power managed to defeat the most powerful sorcerer to ever live? How did you survive while Lord Voldemort's powers were broken?"

Harry frowned, actually taken aback. He had somehow expected better from Riddle. The last thing he'd expected was for the Heir of Slytherin to be some sort of fanboy. "Why do you care?" He asked cautiously. There was something rubbing at the edge of his mind, a realization of sorts. Unfortunately, he thus far had no idea what that realization was. "Voldemort was after your time."

Harry nearly recoiled at the predatory smile that crossed Riddle's regal face. "Voldemort," he hissed softly, "is my past, my present, and my future." Then, Riddle lifted the wand in his hand and elaborately wrote a name in the air in flaming red letters.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle _

Then, with a flick of his wand, Riddle caused the letters to rearrange and Harry actually gasped.

_I Am Lord Voldemort_

"You." Harry hissed. His voice was void of anything Riddle may have expected. There was no fear, no shock, no apprehension.

Just unmistakeable hatred.

"Me." Riddle hissed with a curled smile. "Now, I will ask you again, Harry. How is it that you bested Lord Voldemort that Halloween night?"

"Because you're an idiot who's too focused on himself to see the bigger picture." Riddle's eyes narrowed with danger. "My mother died to save me, Riddle. My mudblood mother refused to step aside. She beat you and she didn't even have to raise her wand. And you know what?" Harry continued, spurred on by anger and hatred. "The same thing happened last year. You were so convinced I was no threat, so convinced you'd crush me easily. And then I beat you without a wand. You're pathetic, Riddle, I've seen the real you. You're disgusting, disgraceful, and nothing more than a shell."

Riddle shrugged. "Perhaps, but unfortunately for you, I am also the greatest sorcerer of all time. Not even death can conquer me, Harry Potter. You see, that diary is doing far more than opening the Chamber of Secrets. The moment Ginny Weasley poured her soul into that diary, she had already lost. Now that I do not require her any further, she is dying, Harry. Every passing moment, Ginevra Weasley grows weaker as I grow stronger. Soon, the last of her life will be mine and I shall truly live once more. I will dispose of the famous Harry Potter, find my core self and revive him once more. From there, we will succeed in doing what your mother prevented the first time."

There was a long, tense pause in which the two Parselmouths stared intensely at one another. "You're not." Harry said in just more than a whisper.

Riddle raised an eyebrow. "Not what?"

"Not the greatest sorcerer of all time, not even in the world."

Riddle frowned. "Who is greater?"

"Albus Dumbledore! You always feared him. You never had the balls to attack Hogwarts even at the height of your power. Almost every time Dumbledore appeared on the battlefield you fled. He scared you in your school days and he still does now. Even with every advantage you could possibly want and a pet murder machine, you were too afraid to act until Dumbledore was gone! While you're wasting away as a pathetic parasite in Merlin only knows what god forsaken corner of the world, Dumbledore's running this whole damn thing and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Albus Dumbledore has been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me."

"He's not really gone though, not beaten yet. Not while I'm here. Not while those loyal to him are still here."

Instantly, music permeated the tense atmosphere around them as an ethereal song seemed to play from every direction. Then, with a flash of fire that would have made Harry jump had he not been glaring at Riddle with utter hatred, Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, appeared on Harry's shoulder, something black and tattered clasped in his claws.

Riddle studied him for almost a minute before he spoke, ignoring the flush of anger on Harry's face and the phoenix altogether. "Such a strong reaction to a simple name." Riddle purred. "Of that, at least, I can be proud. I must admit, Harry, it perplexes me how you can hate somebody who is so similar to you."

"Shut up!" Harry snapped. "I'm nothing like you, Riddle!"

"Aren't you?" Riddle asked with that same, smug smile. "Both halfblood orphans left to be raised by muggles who despised us — oh, don't look so surprised, Harry. You've spoken to your friend, Weasley about them, at least vaguely. His mother is quite persistent in asking about you out of Hogwarts, you know? Ginny was very interested in those conversations. It doesn't take a deductive genius to know that your muggle relatives disliked you. I was much the same. My parents abandoned me, but both of us ended up with muggles who hated us. I bet you were called a freak, I bet you were isolated, I bet you were punished when mysterious things started to happen around you."

"Riddle, I swear-"

"Oh, come now, Harry, we both know I understand you better than any of your friends. After we were both done getting abused for years by muggles who weren't fit to wipe the scum off of our boots, we arrived at Hogwarts. The two orphaned halfbloods, both of whom turned out to be magical prodigies. We're both easily the most gifted sorcerers of our generation, both of us deductive geniuses and gifted in the mind arts at a young age. We're probably the only two Parselmouths to have attended Hogwarts this century and to my knowledge, we're the only two students to ever find Salazar's fabled Chamber of Secrets." Riddle paused, examining Harry again. "Come on, Harry, we even look alike. You may not like it, but we are similar, eerily so, even. There is no running from the truth, Harry. Unfortunately for you, I'm just a few moves-"

"I SAID, SHUT UP!"

Riddle scowled. "Have it your way." He said. "Let us decide who is the greatest sorcerer in the world, shall we? Let us test the famous Harry Potter, armed with the gifts bestowed upon him by whom he believes to be the greatest sorcerer in the world. Let us test the greatness of Harry Potter, a pet bird and a stupid old hat against the might, prestige and power of Lord Voldemort, the most powerful sorcerer of all time!" With that, Riddle turned to the statue of Slytherin and began to hiss. With widened eyes, Harry realized what was happening.

"**Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts-"**

"BOMBARDA!"

Harry's curse was aimed not at Riddle, but at the statue itself. Unfortunately, the teenaged Voldemort whirled and with a stab of his wand, he sent Harry's curse off course.

"Fine, Potter." Riddle sneered. "Let us test your talents more… directly. Avada Kedavra!"

Before Harry could move, all he could see was fire. Then, an instant later, he rematerialized behind Riddle and the phoenix, Fawkes, took off from his shoulder with what Harry now recognized as the Sorting Hat clasped in his jaws.

"OZIO FRACTO!"

Riddle didn't even block. He just let the spell fly straight through him. "Such dark magic, Harry." He chided. "And you should really know better. A bone-breaker? What good is that against something that is not truly substance?"

"Flagrete!"

Harry, taking inspiration from Fred, moulded his fire into a set of ropes. Unlike Fred, he did this all with one spell before whipping them towards Voldemort. With a flick of Riddle's wand, the flames were snakes, which reared to strike Harry.

"Evanesco!"

With a long sweep of his wand, the snakes vanished. Internally, Harry noted that he would have to thank Gabrielle at some point if he made it out of this. That little tidbit at the end of her letter, playful as it may have been, had just saved his life.

Unfortunately, Harry knew he would lose.

The few spells he snuck through Riddle's defenses had done nothing. By this point, several minutes later, it was apparent Harry had no chance. The worst part was, he could tell Riddle was holding back. Or, more likely, he was weak. What had he said? Every second Ginny grew weaker, he grew stronger? Perhaps magic like the killing curse had taken a lot out of him. He was certainly not casting magic as powerful or awe inspiring as Harry might expect.

But even still, Harry was outmatched.

He was breathing heavily as he came up from a roll just feet away from the unconscious hostages.

"Crucio!"

"Protego!"

Immediately, Harry realized his mistake with dread. Moody had always preached the importance of experience, and here it was on full display. Harry very obviously had no experience in fighting a foe who wielded the Unforgivable Curses so freely. As a result, Protego had become a default defense for him and he had reacted on instinct.

The problem was, no shield could block the Cruciatus Curse.

Harry cried out in pure, unadulterated agony as he slumped to the floor. His wand clattered to the floor as his hand spasmed badly. Harry suddenly forgot he was in the Chamber of Secrets. He forgot that his name was Harry Potter, or that he was standing in front of the teenage version of Voldemort. This was pain on an entirely new level. He just wanted it to end — by any means necessary.

Mercifully, about forty seconds later, it did. Absentmindedly, as if from far away, Harry could hear the sounds of Riddle trying to fend off Fawkes. Clearly, Dumbledore's phoenix had taken exception with its owner's protege being tortured to death. Harry tried to push himself up to his feet but he couldn't. Pain wracked his body every time he tried to move. That curse was meant to break people within about ten seconds.

Harry did not even want to think of its effects on a twelve-year-old boy when applied for more than quadruple that time.

As Harry slumped back to the floor, he felt a pair of eyes from his side. He looked to his side and almost gasped. Snape's eyes were open and he was peering imploringly at Harry. Glancing up with some difficulty, Harry realized that Riddle, who had almost warded off the phoenix by now, had not noticed.

Somehow, Snape had bested Riddle again.

Slowly, Harry began to crawl for his wand.

With a blast like a firework, Fawkes squawked indignantly and Riddle whirled on Harry, wand aimed. Harry knew what was about to happen, but he was too weakened to prevent it.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Before Harry's world could be consumed in green, his eyes burned from a different shade of light. Fawkes had flamed directly between Harry and the Killing Curse. When the curse slammed into the bird, it let out a high, agonized cry and burst into ashes. Harry knew that a new phoenix would be born from the ashes in seconds, but it wasn't going to matter.

"Too late, bird." Riddle snarled, now breathing heavily as he aimed deliberately at Harry. "You've only delayed the inevitable. Goodbye, Harry Potter.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Instead of a jet of green light emerging from his wand, Riddle let out a cry of pain as he fell to the ground, shaking. After a moment, he slowly stood to his feet and twirled the wand in his hands distastefully.

"It appears your death has been delayed one more time, Harry." He hissed in a voice suddenly raspy and filled with anger and annoyance. "In this form, I fatigue too quickly. It seems hurling Unforgivables around is fairly taxing for a memory, but no matter. You will die nonetheless." In a dramatic motion, Riddle whirled to face the statue and now, his voice came out as a hiss.

"**Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four."**

Harry could hear the statue's mouth unhinge far above him. About fifteen seconds later, he could hear the loud thud of the snake's body hitting the cool, Chamber floor. He could hear Riddle's command to kill him in Parseltongue and he could hear the snake crawling nearer.

"Just look up, Harry. It will all be over in a flash."

Harry did indeed look up, but he did so with closed eyes and a wand in hand.

"FINITE INCANTATEM!"

Though Harry's eyes were closed, he knew it had worked. He could hear the scrambling of Snape as he stood quickly to his feet, hear Riddle commanding the basilisk to divert its attention from Harry to Snape. And then, Harry heard the Potions Master cry out in a snarl far more vicious than anything even he'd been on the receiving end of.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!"

Harry heard a smack as if the snake had fallen. Then, he heard mad, agonized sputtering and disjointed complaints in Parseltongue that all worked out to about the same in terms of their meaning…

"**My eyes."**

Tentatively, Harry chanced a glance from his spot on the floor. He did try to get up, but his body still rejected the motion. There was the basilisk, slowly rearing back up, blood pouring from the open sockets that used to contain its eyes. Whatever spell Snape had used, it had destroyed the things eyes in one go.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!"

This time, the spell smashed against the armoured scales on the things head and to Harry's shock, blood poured from the point of impact. The basilisk's scales could resist almost all magic, but whatever that spell was, it was slicing straight through it. It had not cut deep enough to kill the thing, as Snape began firing the spell repeatedly, but it had wounded it.

Riddle was hissing instructions frantically, but he could not yet do more than that. Then, Harry felt a nudge against his arm. When he looked down, it was the baby phoenix, Fawkes. Somehow, the miniature bird had managed to drag the Sorting Hat towards Harry. Perplexed, Harry made to grab the hat, but instead, his hand plunged into the thing…

And closed around something very solid.

With tremendous effort, Harry drew a ruby-encrusted sword from the hat, one that was long and deadly in appearance. Then, he glanced up. Snape was clearly trying to hit the same point that his second spell had impacted, but the basilisk kept evading.

"PROFESSOR!" Harry screamed, just barely managing to lift the sword above his head for Snape to see. Only later would the youth reflect how proud Dumbledore would be at his proper address of the man.

Snape's dark eyes, filled with such intensity that Harry actually flinched, landed on him and the sword. For a second, Snape seemed shocked. Then, with a swish and flick of his wand, the sword levitated.

And then drove itself forcefully into the open wound on the basilisk's skull.

Riddle screamed in fury as his pet murder machine fell to the floor, twitching and convulsing before, a moment later, it ceased moving at all.

Snape's wand turned on Riddle, but the boy only sneered. "You can't so much as hurt me, fool! Soon, I will be restored to full power and the both of you will die!"

He wasn't lying.

Ginny looked terrible. She was beyond pale now, almost ghostly in her appearance. The diary seemed to be glowing, increasing in brightness each and every second…

"Professor, the diary! Destroy the diary!"

Remarkably, Snape did not question Harry. He whipped around, firing several cutting curses at the diary. When none of them did so much as scratch the thing, he sneered.

"Sectumsempra!"

Again, nothing happened.

Riddle was laughing. "You don't understand the scope of the situation, Professor." He drawled in a mocking tone of voice. "There is nothing in your arsenal that can leave a scratch on that diary."

Snape sneered. "Cease your taunting, you insolent, incompetent dunderhead!" Riddle actually faltered and Harry would have laughed if it wouldn't have hurt. "I am Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, seventh level Occlumens and master of the darkest of arts! You have underestimated me for the final time!" Then, with a flourish, Snape swept his wand in a wide arc towards the diary.

"FIENDFYRE!"

Red hot flames surged from Snape's wand and engulfed the diary.

Harry knew that it had worked as soon as Riddle began to scream. As the flames began to coalesce into the form of a beautiful, yet terrifying doe, the horrified, furious form of Tom Riddle began to fade. Before it could do so completely, Harry looked up and met its eye with a triumphant, shit-eating grin and uttered one last, poetic word.

"Checkmate!"

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**Author's Endnote:**

**So there it is! The Chamber of Secrets over and done with!**

**I hope you guys are satisfied with that conclusion. I am a bit worried people will say I stuck too close to canon but honestly, there aren't many believable ways a twelve year old Harry Potter could beat Tom Riddle. I personally like the way everything came full circle, but let me know what you think in the reviews.**

**Also, don't think this is the end of year 2. We have several more chapters left and I still have an ace or two up my sleeve to play before the conclusion of this year…**

**It should be noted that there will be no chapter for this story next week. I am taking a one week hiatus to finish some other projects. Weekly uploads will return on Sunday, August 2nd and continue for the duration of year 2.**

**Please read and review.**


	35. LOS Ch 20: Interlude

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

**In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Instagram aci100ff or by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works.**

* * *

**Recommendations:**

**Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin** **by The Sinister Man.**

**Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived** **by The Santi.**

**Growing Up Black** **by ElvindorkNigellus. **

**The Hero and The Veela** **by JackPotter.**

**Stepping Back****, and ****Honour Thy Blood** **by TheBlack'sResurgence.**

**The Mind Arts** **by Wu Gang.**

**A Cadmean Victory** **by DarknessEnthroned.**

**Magicks of The Arcane** **by Eilyfe. **

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"Speech"

'Internal Dialogue'

**Parseltongue**

_Memories/In Story Text_

* * *

**Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100.**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.**

**Chapter 20: Interlude.**

* * *

_**February 15th, 1993**_

_**Professor McGonagall's Office**_

_**3:23 AM**_

The trek back up into the castle proper was one of the longest trips of Harry's life. He resented the entire affair. Primarily because the agony wrought by the Cruciatus Curse was still very much present in every fibre of his being. The simple motion of standing to his feet was incredibly taxing, let alone the effort it took to walk. What made the situation even worse was that he was forced to lean heavily on Snape for support as the Potions Master levitated Ginny, Hermione, Dean and Ron ahead of them.

This was rather problematic for two reasons. One of which was that Harry detested physical contact of any kind. The other was that he loathed contact even more when it concerned his Potions Master. Granted, he had an immeasurable amount more respect for Snape now than he'd had upon their arrival down in the Chamber, but it did not change the fact that Harry was still rather unfond of the man.

Even when he did get a brief reprieve from the necessitated closeness, it was to take a rather uncomfortable ride up the tube back up to the school. Harry sincerely wished that the now baby phoenix, Fawkes, had not been hit with the killing curse. If he'd have avoided that fate, he'd have simply been able to flame them all to where they needed to go. But without that ability, it was a long, monotonous journey.

None of the unconscious students stirred as they walked. Ginny had been stunned by Snape before leaving the Chamber. If the man was to be believed, waking up in an unknown environment probably wouldn't be the best for her mental stability. There was also the small problem that she'd just experienced months on end with the Dark Lord in her head. Whether it was a teenaged version of him or not, Snape had reasonably pointed out that she was a wildcard to put it kindly.

As much as Harry hated to admit Snape was right about anything at all, he grudgingly had to concede that the man had a point.

Beyond that bit of obligatory chatter, the two of them shared silence on their way up to the castle. Harry leaned on Snape as they neared McGonagall's door, sorting hat in hand. Snape had a firm grip on the sword, but he kept glancing from the blade to the youth at his side.

At long last, Snape pushed open the door and practically dragged Harry into McGonagall's office after first floating in the unconscious students. A scream was the first thing Harry heard as Molly Weasley rushed forward towards her two children, clearly in hysterics. It took a significant amount of time to assure her that they were both perfectly unharmed. She insisted on asking about Harry as well, but he brushed her aside the best he could

Unfortunately, she was not having it.

"Come on, dear." She told him, trying to take a light grip on his arm. "I'm taking these two to the Hospital Wing. I'll take you as well. You clearly need some attention."

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm fine-"

"Harry, you can barely stand. You need help. I'll take you, dear, it's no trouble."

"My apologies, Molly," came a strong, clear voice from the doorway to the office, "but I am afraid I have rather urgent business to attend to with Harry. He does indeed need attention and I do promise you he will receive it promptly. But before he does, there are things that the two of us must discuss."

Harry's entire body jolted at the voice that he knew so very well. He struggled to turn, using Snape as a point of balance as he stared, open mouthed at Albus Dumbledore. He was standing in the doorway of the office with a travelling cloak still pulled tightly around him. There were even bits of snow in his hair and beard. It was clear that he'd rushed to Hogwarts as quickly as he could and had only just arrived. Upon seeing its master, the baby phoenix let out a soft trill, bouncing on Harry's shoulder as it stared expectantly at Dumbledore. For a split second, there was surprise in the old man's face. Then, he held out his hand, and Fawkes floated softly into his grasp.

Yet another magical who could wield the force of magic without a wand. Something to look into, eventually.

"Headmaster!" Molly protested. "He's hurt! He needs medical attention-"

"And he will have it, Molly, I assure you. For now, it is essential that I speak with Harry as soon as possible. There are things that need to be discussed between the two of us. I would not insist if it was not a matter of the utmost urgency."

Mrs. Weasley reluctantly deflated. "Yes, of course, Albus. I know you wouldn't. I just worry, you know?"

"I understand very well, Molly. It is an admirable quality that has helped you to raise many wonderful children. Take Ronald and Ginevra to Pomfrey. In my admittedly amateur opinion, neither of them look in dire conditions, but it is still best if you hurry in matters pertaining to such things." Molly nodded, casting one, final look back towards Harry before exiting the room.

When Molly left with her children, Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, I do hate to impose so swiftly upon my arrival, but could you please escort Mister Thomas and Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing? Once there, I would be ever so grateful if you could get in touch with their parents. As well as Lady Longbottom, if possible."

Harry's heart gave a jolt. In all the chaos that had been the last number of hours, he'd almost completely forgotten about Neville.

"Right away, Albus." Professor McGonagall said, levitating the students in question out of the room as she quickly strode after them.

"Severus," Dumbledore said tiredly, "my brave friend, would it be an overextension on my part if I asked you to await me up in my office? I have matters of the private variety to discuss with Harry here first." Harry thought he did see a flash of annoyance on Snape's face, but he nodded curtly so soon after that he may well have imagined the whole thing.

Only when Snape had swept from the room, easing Harry into a conjured, plush armchair courtesy of the Chief Warlock did Dumbledore sigh heavily, sinking into the chair across from Harry.

"Sir," Harry asked at once, "Is Neville-"

"Mister Longbottom will be perfectly fine, Harry. I admit, I have ascertained very little in regards to his situation, but he seemed no worse for wear, in the grand scheme of things. Just one of many to fall victim to the heinous scheme that has been this entire year, I am afraid. While we're on the topic, tell me, Harry. What is it that has all transpired this year at Hogwarts? Fill in the sizeable gaps in an old man's knowledge, if you would be so kind."

And so he did.

He told Dumbledore of the way that Riddle had manipulated Ginny and how, in turn, she had poured her heart and soul into the enchanted diary, which now lay between them after being discarded there by Snape moments earlier. He told Dumbledore of Riddle's scheming with Ron and Lockhart and how it had all connected to Harry. How Riddle's goal had been to get he, Dumbledore, out of the castle in order to strike at Harry more directly. When he told Dumbledore about the diary, an odd, dark… something flashed in the man's eyes. Harry paused his tale for only a second, but by the time he had done so, the look had vanished altogether. Finally, he told Dumbledore about the events following his removal from the castle, including a full, unedited account of the night's events.

When he finished, a ringing sort of silence stretched between them. It was not necessarily unpleasant, just wholly and completely absolute.

"Despite my exceedingly lofty expectations, you never do disappoint, Harry. I had full and complete faith in you to defeat whatever remnant of Tom that was causing this. Admittedly, I underestimated exactly how dangerous and sophisticated that remnant could be. I would likely have played my hand differently had I realized what we were well and truly up against. But in the end, it matters not. You have triumphed once more. For the third time in your short span of life, you have defeated Lord Voldemort, albeit in a different form, on this occasion."

"I didn't though." Harry said bitterly, allowing his true thoughts out for the first time since the whole debacle. Every minute or so, an agonizing spasm would wrack his body. Aside from that, however, he could now coherently communicate his thoughts, which was a massive plus, given the situation at hand.

Dumbledore looked taken aback. "Didn't what, exactly?"

"I didn't beat him. It was Snape who beat him. He was the one who killed the basilisk and destroyed the diary. Without him, I'd be dead." To say that was difficult to admit was like saying basilisks did not make safe pets. Harry still had an immense amount of resentment for Snape, but facts were facts, unfortunately. "Hell," Harry muttered, taking the thought process further still, "I've never beat him. Not really, at least. When I was a baby, I only survived because my mother died for me. Last year, it was the same protection that killed Quirrell, not anything I did. And this year, I was helpless. I tried to block an Unforgivable with a Protego, for Merlin's Sake. If It wasn't for Snape, I'd be dead. I'd never have beaten him. I might never-"

"Enough."

Dumbledore did not raise his voice. In fact, he spoke more softly than Harry was accustomed to. In spite of that, his voice cut through Harry's musings like a knife through hot butter. Harry was immediately silenced by the weight of Dumbledore's undertones and the intensity In his no longer twinkling eyes.

"You are truly remarkable, Harry. More remarkable than any boy your age whom I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Most boys your age would sit before me without an ounce of modesty if put in your place. They would be on cloud nine. They would be euphoric with their victory and I would worry deeply for a possible, unhealthy rise in their confidence. Instead, you sit here before me the exact opposite. You speak not of the incredible things you have done, but of the impossible things you have not managed to achieve.

I am, of course, wholly unsurprised by that fact. It is a good trait to have, modesty. It keeps one honest, in most instances. It wards off over confidence and allows one's motivation to stay high, in turn driving them to do remarkable things. There is a point, however, when modesty becomes unhealthy, when applied in the extreme. In your case, it is partially modesty and partially the overwhelming guilt that you irrationally feel." When Harry made to cut in, Dumbledore raised a hand to forestall him.

"You are speaking emotionally, Harry, not logically. Allow me to attempt to pull aside the veil of emotions and expose the truth for what it truly is. Eleven and a half years ago now, Lord Voldemort attacked your family. On that night, you were his downfall. In many ways, his defeat can be attributed to your mother's noble sacrifice, this much is true. Of course, there were… other forces at play that Halloween night that we need not get into quite yet. For the sake of argument, I will concede your point and we shall say that on that night, it was your mother who had bested Lord Voldemort.

"Fast forward a decade and you are at Hogwarts. As a result of my own horrific mistakes, you grew up with no advantages." Dumbledore scowled. "Well, I suppose that's not true. You grew up with every disadvantage one could imagine but from that turbulent environment, advantages were indeed born. By the time you stepped foot in this school, you were already quite remarkable.

Your resilience was something to be prided, your loyalty to those you care for was unmatched and despite all of the emotional torment you went through, you remained unbroken as a result of said resiliency. But more than that, you had goals. You were driven, more so perhaps than any first year student I have ever met. Your mind was already magnificent as well, which, loathe as I am to admit it, I think was partially aided by the trials and tribulations you were forced to go through."

Harry nodded, reluctantly conceding the point. If he'd have had more ways to occupy his time at Privet Drive, perhaps he wouldn't have turned to books and knowledge as a salvation.

Still, he failed to see where this was going. Fortunately for him, Dumbledore pressed on valiantly.

"Then," Dumbledore continued, "you arrived at Hogwarts. At long last, you were where you always should have been, in this world, I mean. But still, you had to overcome trials and tribulations unimaginable for an eleven year old. And yet, you did it. You pieced together the mystery of the fake Philosopher's Stone. You correctly deduced that it was indeed Lord Voldemort after the stone. You skillfully evaded the defenses and stared down Lord Voldemort. Though it was your mother's protection that finished the job, it was your deductive reasoning, strategic thinking and overwhelming purity that defeated Lord Voldemort. Do you have any idea, Harry, how special a person needed to be in order to look in that mirror and see themselves with the stone? Whether it was the true stone or not is irrelevant. If you had not removed it from the mirror, Voldemort may well have never had cause to touch you. If this was the case, he may well have escaped that night.

"And now, not a year later, you have bested him again, albeit in a different form. You managed to find the fabled Chamber of Secrets, something Headmasters and Headmistresses past have failed to do for centuries. Why, I include myself on that very long list. You willingly walked into the path of fire in search of victory and liberty for those who you care for. Your will overpowered Tom Riddle's in the diary. Down in the Chamber, from what I understand, it was once more your strategic thinking and calmness in the face of fire that allowed you to defeat Tom Riddle. Severus was only able to finish the job because you had done such a marvellous job at getting him to that point, Harry.

"You say that you did not beat Voldemort because oftentimes, you have not been the one to deal the final blow. A man's defeat cannot be summarized by a single mov,. It is a sequence consisting of a countless number of events which lead to a person's defeat. In all three of these instances, you were the driving catalyst for the vast majority of these events. How could you have delivered the final blow as a toddler? It would have been impossible. Even last year, an eleven year old boy could have never dreamt of beating Voldemort in open combat no matter the form he took. And tonight, if there was any twelve year old in the world who knew of a way to destroy this diary, I would be immeasurably concerned for that child's future."

A long, heavy silence stretched between them once more as Harry mulled over everything the man had said. He needed to be better in spite of all Dumbledore had laid out. This much was true and irrefutable. He needed the ability to finish the job in the future. Both for his safety and his own, selfish reasons. He did see where Dumbledore was coming from and the man made some compelling points.

He would let the matter drop, for now, but his feelings of inadequacy had not been vanquished.

He would not allow them to consume him, as Dumbledore clearly feared. Instead, he would use them as further motivation. They would be what drove him to make the necessary steps to ensure that one day, hopefully in the not so distant future, he would no longer need to rely on the intervention of others.

Never again.

"What ails you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. "I know that I will not sway you completely to my way of thinking on our previous point of discussion, but there is still something bothering you deeply. Something else."

Harry hesitated, unwilling to put his feelings into words. What would Dumbledore say if he pointed these things out? Had the man missed them over the years? Would it change the way he looked at his star pupil?

But Dumbledore had never done that before. Harry trusted him more than anyone in the world aside from maybe Neville and Augusta.

"Riddle and I talked down in the Chamber." Harry said quietly.

"Ah," Dumbledore mused, "so you have met Tom Riddle, have you? I confess, it does not surprise me that Riddle was intensely interested in you. He was an obsessive being, even as a child. He was also more than likely the most gifted student to ever walk these hallowed halls." Dumbledore smiled minutely. "Until you arrived, perhaps."

Harry spared a weak smile for Dumbledore. "Yeah, he was interested in me. He asked me how I survived on Halloween, for starters."

"Naturally." said Dumbledore. "I imagine lack of an answer on that front was destroying Tom for a… vast number of reasons, some more obvious than others."

That answer was interesting, but Harry had to continue his current train of thought. If he didn't, he may never summon up the courage to say it again.

"That… wasn't all he said. It wasn't the only reason he was interested in me." When Dumbledore looked at him expectantly, Harry took a deep, heavy sigh before taking the metaphorical plunge. "He said that we were similar. Eerily so, even, was how he described it."

"Ah," Dumbledore mused softly, "so that is the heart of your discontent, is it? Let me assure you, Harry, you are nothing like Tom Riddle. Surely, you can see that."

"He wasn't wrong." Harry said in barely more than a whisper. "There are… a lot of similarities between us. Both of us are halfbloods who were orphaned and raised by muggles. According to Riddle, he was also raised by muggles who hated and wanted nothing to do with him. When we got to Hogwarts, we both became magical prodigies. The best of our generations, by far, is how he described it. Both of us are Parselmouths. Probably the only two this century, even. We're the only two known students to find the Chamber of Secrets." Harry made a face. "We even look alike." He said with some disgust.

"There are other things, too. If I were in his position, I'd have been just as curious about me as he was. If I were in his position, I wouldn't rest until I knew the big secret that was being kept from me." He looked up at Dumbledore, almost imploringly. "There are too many similarities. We're alike. What if… what if something happens down the line. What if… what if-"

"What if you go down the road that Lord Voldemort walked decades before you were born?"

With an extreme degree of hesitance, Harry nodded.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, a look more calculating than Harry had ever seen was evident on his face. He seemed to ponder something very intensely. Perhaps it had to do with all of this? Perhaps it was whatever bit of information Dumbledore had not told him at the end of his first year. Perhaps he was contemplating on whether or not to tell Harry.

"I will not deny any of those parallels between yourself and Voldemort." Dumbledore conceded. "But there are other things you need to understand about Tom Riddle, Harry. First and foremost, Riddle was a master manipulator long before he took his O.W.L exams. Before he even arrived at Hogwarts, to an extent. It does not surprise me at all he brought this information forth in the manner he did so. Riddle made points that would naturally be compelling to you, but he did not contextualize said points. Because I understand why you will take these with such surety, allow me to deconstruct Tom's arguments. Then, once I have done so, I will explain why none of them are relevant to the topic at hand."

Nervously, with a fair bit of apprehension, Harry nodded.

"Both of you being half bloods does not make you similar, Harry. That is simply a fundamental fact about both of you that neither can change. It has absolutely no bearing on the person you will one day become and it means nothing outside the political arena. Tom was not orphaned. Not completely, in any case. It is true that his mother died giving birth to him on a cold, winter's night many years ago. His father, however, was very much alive. Tom Riddle Sr. abandoned his one time lover long before Lord Voldemort was born. If I am correct in my assumption, and I'm sure that I am, it was Voldemort who murdered his muggle father years later in cold blood." Harry's eyes widened at the horror of that situation. "As for yourself, you were quite literally orphaned as a result of Lord Voldemort's actions. It is he who created any similarity in that arena. There is a world of difference in your situations.

As for the muggles who raised you, I will not deny that both yourself and a young Tom Riddle grew up in less than desirable situations. In truth, I believe you had it far worse than he. I do not believe the matrons of the orphanage in which Tom grew up ever went out of their way to abuse him as your aunt and uncle did to you. Mind you, it is true that they were intensely neglectful and, if my research on the matter holds true, they did ignore a staggering amount of bullying on the part of the other children. This is perhaps the most notable similarity between yourself and Voldemort and I will come back to it in a moment.

As for both being magical prodigies, again, this is true. Riddle was not mistaken in telling you that you were both heads and shoulders above all of your peers. I would go as far as to say the gap between the two of you and the respective next best students in each of your years was and is insurmountable. This does not make you similar to Voldemort. By this logic, I can say that the two of us are extremely similar as well, for I also found myself in the same, exact position many, many years ago.

Let's see, what's next? Ah yes, Parseltongue. The truth of the matter, Harry, is that you are only a Parselmouth because Lord Voldemort is a Parselmouth. That night in Godric's Hollow, when the killing curse rebounded, it did far more than destroy the Dark Lord. Magic like what transpired that night has consequences. It formed a connection of sorts between yourself and Voldemort. A connection deeper than any I have ever seen before. It is this connection which rendered the trauma at the end of your first year to be far greater than it should have been. It is this connection that will strengthen as Lord Voldemort himself inevitably grows stronger. And it is this connection which allows you to understand and speak to snakes. There is no similarity there. Just a magical anomaly that allows it to exist.

Have I missed anything?"

Harry sat in silence as he pondered everything Dumbledore had gone over. In his personal opinion, a connection between himself and Voldemort only made the issue more pronounced. He could see where Dumbledore was coming from, but there were deeper things too.

"I see you are not completely convinced, as of yet. I knew this would be the case. Nothing Voldemort described is a true similarity, Harry. Nothing with the exception of your upbringing, perhaps. It is because of this upbringing that both of you are very logical thinkers, which is perhaps the most glaring similarity that admittedly exists. You are both clinical people, which works to your favour in most cases. In matters like this, however, it also means both of you oftentimes miss the bigger picture. Neither of you are rightly equipped to perceive and evaluate emotions. You are making great progress on this front, and the fact is one of many things which separates you and Voldemort, who never sought to remedy that glaring weakness.

Because of your tendency to overlook emotions and their true meaning, you, like Voldemort fail to see what a true similarity is, Harry. It is rooted in far deeper things than coincidental evidence, I'm afraid. It is not the events that transpire around a person which shapes them. It is how that person evaluates said events and grows from them. It is in the same vein that it is not our actions that define us, but our choices and the deep, intricate thoughts that go into each and every one of them." Dumbledore cast a sideways glance towards the ancient hat on the table. "That proof is in the pudding, Harry. When Voldemort rested the sorting hat atop his head, there was only one place for him to go. He was too cunning and far too ruthless to go anywhere else. He would never have been a Gryffindor, for instance. Bravery and chivalry. Tom Riddle never had the moral compass to be anything bordering on chivalrous."

"The only reason I'm in Gryffindor," Harry muttered, "is because I asked to be."

"Exactly!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "And that, Harry, is why you are nothing like Tom Riddle. Riddle sought to go off to Slytherin so he could further his ruthless, manipulative ways. In doing so, being a half blood and a dictator at heart, Riddle forfeited any chance at true friendship. Riddle chose power and prestige over friendship and happiness. Once more, Harry, it is our choices which define us. Would Tom Riddle have risked his life for his friends this evening? Would Tom Riddle have gone after Mister Longbottom at risk of his own death last year? Would Tom Riddle have fought a full grown mountain troll at the age of eleven. Lord Voldemort has always and will always do what is easy, Harry. You, more so than any child I have ever met, have an astounding attraction to doing what is right."

For the first time, Dumbledore had actually managed to cast a degree of doubt on Harry. Doubt at whether or not the comparisons mentioned by Riddle held any true validity.

Before he could think too much more on the matter, the door to the office burst open once more and this time, it was no professor who entered.

Instead, it was a rather irate looking Lucius Malfoy with a battered looking house elf at his heels. As the man entered the room and rounded on Dumbledore, Harry's eyes flashed from the diary to the man himself and a revelation and idea came together in his mind.

* * *

**Author's Endnote:**

**I don't feel the need to rehash that last scene, because it goes pretty much the same way as in canon. Dumbledore outplays Lucius and Harry tricks him into losing his temper by making insinuations involving the diary. The only difference is that Dumbledore witnessed the whole thing, this time around.**

**Oh and damn, there are strong opinions about Snape. I had him do one positive thing and got demonized for it in the reviews. Apparently, I'm not allowed to have a character people dislike have any redeeming qualities or moments, so I'll keep that in mind for future reference.**

**In all seriousness, if it offends you that much, stop reading. I am not going to make Snape a beacon of morality, but I'm also not going to portray him as a two dimensional bastard for a million words, I hate to break it to you.**

**I am going to have to contradict something I said on the last upload. After chapter 34, I said that updates would be weekly until the end of year 2 and then at that point, I would be taking a sizeable break from the story in order to pre-write year 3 as well as focus more on my main story.**

**Unfortunately, I am going to have to go to biweekly uploads until the end of year 2 (one every two weeks). Though I still probably could maintain a weekly upload schedule, as I have nothing pre-written, it really doesn't allow me to get ahead in anything else, since my main story is on a weekly upload schedule. Though it is logistically possible, I think it best both for my mental health and for the inevitable quality of the chapters that I move this to biweekly until the end of year 2.**

**It may return to weekly uploads come year 3. That will just depend on how much I have pre-written. If I had pre-written chapters, I would still have this as a weekly story, but I just don't.**

**Please read and review.**

**The next chapter will be posted on Sunday, August 16th, 2020. **


	36. LOS Ch 21: Promises and Prophecies

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.**

**In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Instagram aci100ff or by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works.**

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows**

**Chapter 21: Promises and Prophecies**

* * *

_**February 15, 1993**_

_**The Hospital Wing**_

_**4:28 AM**_

About twenty minutes ago, Harry had been forcibly ordered into a bed by Madam Pomfrey after she had shoved a potion down his throat that was supposed to dampen the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Ron, Dean and Hermione were all sleeping behind drawn curtains, and Ginny had left with her parents for a diagnosis at St. Mungo's. Harry was supposed to be asleep, but it would not come.

Well, perhaps it might, but Harry did not want to give it an honest try.

As he lay in the hospital bed, looking up into the utter darkness of the room around him, he could practically see Riddle's dark blue eyes sparkling with malice. He could feel the pain of the Cruciatus Curse and hear Riddle's words echoing inside of his head.

"_Oh, come now, Harry, we both know I understand you better than any of your friends. After we were both abused for years by muggles who weren't fit to lick the scum off of our boots, we arrived at Hogwarts. Two orphaned halfbloods, both of whom turned out to be magical prodigies. We're both easily the most gifted sorcerers of our generation, both of us deductive geniuses and gifted in the Mind Arts at a young age. We're probably the only two Parselmouths to have attended Hogwarts this century and to my knowledge, we're the only two students to ever find Salazar's fabled Chamber of Secrets. Come on, Harry, we even look alike. You may not like it, but we are similar, eerily so, even. There is no running from the truth, Harry."_

Despite what Dumbledore had told him, Harry was scared more of those words than the monster that had spoken them.

Whether he liked it or not, they were true, and that terrified him above all else.

"Harry?"

Harry whipped around so quickly he winced, almost toppling off of his bed. While it was true whatever vile concoction he'd swallowed was slowly easing the agony inflicted by the Cruciatus Curse, it was still distinctly unpleasant to move. Particularly when he tried to move quickly in any given direction.

For a second, he fumbled for his wand, which he had promptly reclaimed from its spot on the bedside table, courtesy of Madam Pomfrey, and stuffed it under his pillow as soon as the matron had left the room. However, he quickly discovered he didn't need it.

"Neville." Harry sighed, actually smiling weakly in relief, as the boy sat up in the bed next to him.

"Harry, the Chamber, Lockhart, what-"

"Shhh!" Harry cut in, hushing his friend forcefully as he did indeed withdraw his wand. A second later, the Muffliato charm was active around them and he began his tale. He was honest, if selective with what he told Neville. For instance, almost none of his conversation with Riddle made the final narration.

"What are they doing with Lockhart?" Neville asked, after the two of them had spent about ten minutes discussing the more significant events in detail.

"I have no idea." Harry answered honestly. "I think Dumbledore did mention something about having him in custody. No clue what they'll do with him. Riddle said he obliviated a bunch of actual heroes and stole their stories. I doubt he'll be punished for the stuff he did under the Imperius Curse, but I imagine there's some sort of sentence for taking a dozen people's memories."

Neville scowled. "I hope they send him to Azkaban."

"So do I." Harry agreed, thinking back to the times where he and Dumbledore had discussed the true evil of the memory charm.

There was a long pause in which the two second year Gryffindors lay silently in the darkness.

"I'm sorry." Neville said quietly, causing Harry to peer curiously towards him through the darkness.

"What for?"

"I failed again. Just like last year. I ended up getting taken out and it left you to do it all alone."

"Neville, you were duelling somebody who was being controlled by teenage Voldemort. I could've never expected you to win that duel."

"You did though."

"Only because Lockhart had turned his attention to you. It gave me an opening."

"I still need to be better."

"We both have to be better. Don't forget, I'd be dead too if it wasn't for Snape." That thought did not sit well with Harry, but facts were facts, unfortunately.

"We'll just keep training." Neville vowed. "We'll work harder than we've ever worked before, both of us."

Harry nodded silently from beside him. "We'll have to," he agreed. "Especially if nonsense like this keeps happening every school year."

'Especially if I am going to kill Voldemort one day.' Harry internally added but did not voice aloud. Neville did not need to hear those thoughts.

Speaking of Neville, he was once again asleep soon after. Admittedly, it was rather uneasy, but it was sleep nonetheless. Harry, on the other hand, laid awake.

About thirty minutes later, the doors to the Hospital Wing opened, and Harry watched as Augusta stepped inside, wearing an old, black travelling cloak as her vulture-like eyes searched the room. Harry made no attempts at pretending to be asleep. Their eyes met, and she silently made her way towards him.

Once more, Harry found himself retelling the events of the evening. Again, he edited out much of his conversation with Riddle. He left in more of it than he had done when speaking to Neville, but he did not mention the parallels Riddle had drawn between the two of them.

Augusta was suitably scandalized that Harry and Neville had gone against her explicit wishes and put themselves in harm's way. Harry could tell, however, that she was not nearly as upset as she tried to indicate. On the contrary, she seemed to swell with pride when she learned that yet again, Harry had bested a form of Lord Voldemort, albeit with the help of Snape, on this occasion.

"I do have other news for you, before I fetch a dreamless sleep potion." Augusta put in. When Harry tried to protest, she silenced him with a harsh glare. "You need sleep, Harry. The human body doesn't function without it. But before I do that, there is some… less pleasant news that you should be aware of." When Harry stared expectantly, if nervously back at her, Augusta broke the news.

"I've been trying since Christmas to get a hold of Sirius Black's trial records. It's been next to impossible to even get answers on how I might do so. I know I had told you before that we wouldn't be able to get them unless new evidence came up, but sometimes, there are… ways to move around procedures. Every inquiry I made, no matter how subtle, was blocked. It is… suspiciously difficult to even get anybody at the Ministry to speak of it."

Harry's danger senses tingled once more. As implausible as the whole situation seemed, Harry had a bad feeling involving the entire debacle surrounding Sirius Black.

"I'm going to keep looking," Augusta assured him, "but I don't think anything is going to come of it."

As Augusta pat him gently on the leg and made to go and retrieve some dreamless sleep potion, Harry privately reflected that in his eyes, something about the whole situation felt very, very wrong.

* * *

_**February 17, 1993**_

_**An Abandoned Classroom**_

_**8:00 PM**_

Classes had been cancelled for the week following the miraculous closure of the Chamber of Secrets. The announcement had been made that next morning at breakfast and that night, the school had held a celebratory feast to mark the occasion. Halfway through the feast, a jovial-looking Hagrid had swept into the hall. Harry had been immensely uncomfortable when the man had rather insistently swept him up into a tight embrace, but he felt rather proud of clearing Hagrid's name once he had pulled his warring emotions under control.

For most of Wednesday, Harry had spent the day lazing with Ron, Dean and Neville. For now, Harry and Neville had decided to tell Dean and Ron almost the entirety of what had happened. For now, they left out the part about Tom Riddle being the sixteen-year-old incarnation of Voldemort. Granted, Harry was sure they would have to tell at least Ron eventually. After all, it had been his sister who had been most directly affected. Still, that was not a conversation Harry was looking forward to. Truthfully, he would rather not reveal that fact at all. Not until the two of them knew Occlumency, at the very least.

After spending some time with his friends, Harry had gone off alone to train until around a quarter to eight. At that point, he began to make his way towards the room he and Daphne perpetually frequented at this time on Wednesday evenings. She had not slipped him a note or any such prompt this week, but he knew she would wish to meet with him.

After the Chamber fiasco, rumours had been running roughshod through Hogwarts about what had truly happened. The contents of these rumours ranged greatly depending on who you asked, but there was one constant in all of them.

Harry Potter, the one-time supposed Dark Lord in training, had been the one to go into the Chamber of Secrets, fight off the monster of Slytherin and return those affected.

The pettiness of the Magical World never failed to amaze Harry.

From the future Voldemort to the next Merlin overnight, all because of some ridiculous rumours spread through the school. And then there had been Dumbledore, who had only perpetuated them further by formally presenting Harry with a special award for services to the school in front of the entire student population.

Yet another similarity between Harry and Tom Riddle. One that had only served to spur on the rumours and cause their fantastical nature to amplify even further. Harry honestly suspected that Dumbledore got a laugh out of how ridiculous some of them were.

Of course, the general idea of these rumours was half-right, but that was not the point.

Harry knew that at the very least, Daphne would have questions. More likely, knowing exactly how sharp his Slytherin friend was, she would have assumptions and well-formed estimations as to what had really happened.

Sure enough, that night served as one of the rare occasions in which Daphne was waiting for him in the room. She was currently seated on the edge of a desk, tapping the point of her shoe impatiently against the floor as she waited. When the door opened, her sapphire eyes focused intensely upon Harry, who had to consciously resist the urge to gulp as he entered the room, closed and locked the door, and cast his typical privacy spells upon the place. Daphne quickly added her own before getting to her feet and studying Harry critically.

"Well?" she asked, an eyebrow arching in question.

"Well…" Harry responded, trying to gauge how much she had put together.

"Oh, come off it, Harry." Daphne responded shortly, her voice rather more harsh than usual. "I'm not an idiot, you know. A professor and some students go missing. The next thing we know, the threat has passed and all are safe. Even the ones who were petrified are safe, even though they'll still have to wait for the Mandrakes to mature. And funnily enough, what do I hear? Rumours that Harry Potter was seen in the Hospital Wing too. Then, that very night, you get a rare award for special services to the school from Dumbledore and two-hundred Merlin forsaken points for Gryffindor.

"So, in twenty-four hours, you were spotted suspiciously soon after this whole Chamber business, given a rare award, and you probably just won Gryffindor the House Cup single-handedly. Oh, and there was the groundskeeper thanking you for clearing his name loudly enough for the whole hall to hear."

So, it was worse than Harry had thought.

This was the problem with having sharp friends, he supposed.

"Well?" Daphne asked again.

"I'm… not sure what you want me to say to all of that, Daphne."

Daphne sighed. "You'd make a terrible solicitor, Harry. Let's try this again. Were you or were you not involved in the capture of the Heir of Slytherin and/or the closing of the Chamber of Secrets? Or whatever the legendary thing actually is. I'm not having you lie on a technicality."

Regrettably, Harry had to concede that Daphne was good — really good.

He searched for a way to lie or deflect, he really did, but he could see none. None that would not be so obviously a lie that they would cause Daphne to snap and potentially become the catalyst for the second collapse of their friendship.

Reluctantly, Harry nodded and Daphne's eyes narrowed. "Did you or did you not fight a monster that may or may not have been connected to Salazar Slytherin?"

Harry hesitated. "I… technically not."

"And what is that supposed to mean, exactly?"

"I… wasn't the one to actually fight it."

"So you're telling me that there actually is a monster hidden somewhere in the castle?"

Harry winced. "There was."

"Okay, new question. Is the Chamber of Secrets actually a real place?"

"Daphne, I shouldn't be telling you any of this-"

"Oh, Merlin, Harry. I'm not going to go run around and spill your secrets. Whatever you want to say about Slytherin, we do secrets very, very well. I'm not even planning on telling Tracey or anything; I'm trying to figure out what you've done this time so I can figure out how I should actually feel about the whole thing."

Harry hesitated. Then, he opened his mouth, closed it, repeated the process one more time and then finally just decided to go for it.

"Okay, fine, a friend and I figured out what the monster was that was petrifying students. Don't ask because you wouldn't believe me if I told you. The Heir left us a hint since he was trying to lure me into a trap. I guess he must have been a Voldemort supporter who wanted revenge. Anyways, we went after them. There was a scuffle in the Chamber and then I freed Snape. He was the one who beat the Heir and took down Slytherin's monster."

"Uh-huh, and why were you in the Hospital Wing, exactly?" Harry winced and made to open his mouth, but Daphne's glare froze him in place. "Answer the question, Harry."

"I… might have been hit with a nasty curse while I tried to duel the Heir before I could get Snape free."

"That's not very specific, Harry. Try again."

"I answered-"

"What curse?"

Harry winced for a third time. "You wouldn't-"

"You'll never know if I would or wouldn't believe you if you never answer my question. Now, out with it."

"The Cruciatus Curse."

Daphne's posture went ramrod stiff as her eyes widened and her breath hitched. She stood there for a solid thirty seconds just staring at him before she took a deep, calming breath. "Okay, that's troubling. Since I already know you're not going to tell me who the Heir of Slytherin was, since Dumbledore is obviously trying to keep it under wraps, let me just ask you why on earth you thought it was a good idea to try and duel them?"

Harry flushed. "I didn't realize Snape was capable right away. I thought he was petrified like the others, but he was faking it."

Daphne took another deep breath. "So to summarize, you rushed in like a fool without a plan, got destroyed by this Heir of Slytherin and then luckily saw that Snape was able to help you?"

"Um… yeah, pretty much exactly that, actually."

Daphne sighed. "Right, new goal of mine, break your idiotic Gryffindor tendencies. The last thing we need is you rushing into a situation like that where a Slytherin isn't there to save your hide." Harry made to argue but the look Daphne shot in his direction made it clear how bad of an idea that was.

As she mercifully moved on to helping him through Runes, Harry reflected that, however much he liked Daphne, she could be rather scary at times.

* * *

_**March 14, 1993**_

_**The Great Hall**_

_**8:24 AM**_

As he had begun to do at the start of each and every day, Harry took the opportunity to thank whatever deity may or may not rule the world for the relative normality that had been his last few weeks at Hogwarts.

No plots seemed to be laid out against him and no students thought him the next dark lord. He had simply been able to focus on classes and extracurricular studies, as well as spending some time with his friends and, of course, the resumed Quidditch season.

Gryffindor's next match was set to be against Hufflepuff after the fast-approaching Easter Break. Ravenclaw had already played and narrowly defeated Slytherin. If Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff, it would set up the final match of the season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, to be for the Quidditch Cup.

The only real negative thing that had happened since February's fiasco was that Dumbledore had, for the time being, ceased their private lessons. According to the Headmaster, Harry needed a break and they would resume harder than ever after the Easter Holidays. Of course, this had not stopped Harry from practicing like a demon, both on his own and with Fred, George, his three friends and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. His Monday lessons with Flitwick in duelling had resumed as well, something the Gryffindor youth was profoundly grateful for.

Speaking of practice, there was something that was greatly bothering him.

The previous night, Fred had defeated him once more. Their duels were getting more and more competitive, but Harry still had no answer for the ace that was the doppelganger charm. He knew that it could be countered, but he had no idea of how one might go about doing so.

As if his very thoughts had summoned help from the sky, a familiar, elegant-looking owl began to swoop down towards the table. Recognizing it, Neville shot a rather vicious grin towards Harry, who covertly raised a very specific finger in his best mate's direction as the owl landed in front of the Potter Heir and stuck out its leg in a rather dignified manner.

Quickly, Harry removed the letter, ignoring Neville's smirk and the odd way that Parvati's eyes narrowed as she watched him tear open the envelope.

_Harry,_

_It took longer than I would have liked for news to reach France, but I am so happy for you and your classmates that Hogwarts seems to be safe again. Whatever was going on inside that castle sounded like a nightmare as well as a danger. _

_Since you seemed so clueless about your public image at Yule, I should probably let you know that you have made the paper in France for receiving an award for special services to your school. The article is quite vague about the whole thing, but congratulations on receiving the award! _

_How are your classes and extracurricular studies going now that everything seems to be running smoothly again? And you never did answer my question about why you were asking about the Homenum Revelio charm._

_I hope you have a safe and productive last few months of school,_

_All the best,_

_Gabrielle_

Harry continued to ignore his friends surrounding him as he took out a piece of parchment and positioned himself in a manner that made it blatantly clear he did not want his response read over his shoulder.

_Gabrielle,_

_Thanks for checking in. Everything seems to have calmed down here, thankfully. It was all a right mess and I was terrified Hogwarts would be closed. It's become a sort of home to me, so it would have been awful to lose it over something like that._

_Thanks for the congratulations, but I really didn't do much. I just overheard some things about what was going on and passed it onto a professor, that's all._

Of course, that was a lie, but it was the one Daphne had helped him to construct. In her words, it was important to control one's public image and not let speculation run rampant. Harry often reflected that she had a shockingly acute political mind for a thirteen-year-old.

_I asked about the Homenum Revelio charm because I heard a professor cast it, but had never heard of it before and obviously, I couldn't tell what it did. I don't suppose you know specifically how to cast it? I'm not sure how difficult it is to learn, but it seems really useful. _

_And since you've been such a help with magical stuff so far, I wondered if you knew a way to counter the doppelganger charm? I've been duelling older students for practice and I keep losing to that same charm. I do alright until it's cast, but then I just have no idea how to counter it._

_How are things in France? How are your guys' classes? Do you all take standard exams at the end of the year like we do? Or does the scoring system work much differently? Honestly, I don't know much of anything about Beauxbatons, aside from what you told me at Yule._

_Good to hear from you and I hope you write back soon. _

_Cheers,_

_Harry_

* * *

_**March 26, 1993**_

_**The Headmaster's Office**_

_**8:00 PM**_

Harry had to admit that he was rather confused as he approached the entrance to Dumbledore's office. That morning, he had received two rather interesting bits of mail.

The first had been Gabrielle's reply letter. The annoying thing about her living in France, was that at times, the responses came quite slowly. Not because she did not immediately pen them, but because the necessary distance that their owls needed to travel both ways greatly slowed down the process.

His other piece of mail, however, had interested him even more.

A politely prompt note in a familiar, looping script requesting Harry's presence that night at eight o'clock.

Ordinarily, this would be the norm. But Dumbledore had made it quite clear they would not be resuming their private lessons until after the Holidays, even if he had made no move to stop Harry from training with Professor Flitwick.

That was the sequence of events that had a rather curious Harry Potter entering the Headmaster's office that night. There were two things on Harry's mind at the moment.

One was, of course, finding out exactly why it was that he was seated in front of his favourite member of the Hogwarts staff, and the second was to potentially float the idea out about Sirius's trial and the suspicious circumstances surrounding the suspiciously buried trial records.

"Good evening, Harry." Dumbledore greeted him cheerily, looking as if he'd de-aged by about a decade since the Chamber saga had thankfully concluded.

"Good evening, sir." Harry responded in turn, taking his customary seat across from the ancient sorcerer. Harry was too polite to outright ask what he was doing here, but Dumbledore evidently understood.

"I presume you are curious as to how you came to be sitting in front of me tonight?"

"A bit, yeah." Harry admitted. "I doubt you've changed your mind on teaching me until after Easter?"

"I have not, no. Loathe as you may be to admit it, recovery is every bit as important as progression. And I don't necessarily mean physical recovery, either."

Harry nodded, thinking back on the entire Chamber fiasco. "How's Ginny?" he asked carefully. Thus far, she had not returned to Hogwarts after being taken to St. Mungo's after Harry had rescued her from the Chamber.

"Miss Weasley is set to return to Hogwarts after Easter Break. There is… some trauma remaining that was brought on by Riddle's occupation of her mind, but the healers believe it will lessen in time as long as she is diligent in her own recovery."

"And Hermione?"

"Miss Granger is in perfect health."

"Did you have to wipe her memories again?"

Dumbledore looked pained at the question but reluctantly nodded. "Miss Granger proved once again too knowledgeable for her own good. Unlike Misters Weasley and Thomas, she discovered exactly who was being possessed by the diary. If I left her memories, I do not think it too large a stretch that she would one day deduce exactly who had been possessing Ginny Weasley. For Miss Weasley's privacy and the integrity of the secrets surrounding Lord Voldemort, I could not leave her memories in good faith, as much as it pained me to take them once more."

Harry did not much like it either. To call it morally ambiguous was generous, but he understood Dumbledore's justification and it was valid. If information leaked to the public that Voldemort was still alive, it could cause mass panic and political chaos.

"But alas," Dumbledore continued, "I did not call you to my office to discuss the Chamber of Secrets. I called you here, instead, to inform you of how, going forward, I will best prepare you to handle hazardous situations in the future." His attention piqued, Harry leaned attentively forward to assure he caught every word the Headmaster uttered.

"Our lessons will proceed after the Easter Holidays, as I have promised. However, there will be one major change. You asked me some time ago whether I could teach you practical magic. The type of magic that would one day be useful in combat. As pained as I am to admit it, arming you with such weapons has quickly risen on my seemingly never-ending list of priorities as this year has progressed."

Harry's heart leapt, but still, he was confused. "Sir, didn't you say you wouldn't have enough time to teach me Occlumency and combat magic at the same time?"

"I did, yes."

"So… we're stopping with Occlumency? I thought you said it was extremely important that I mastered it. I think I'm getting pretty decent, but I definitely haven't mastered it yet."

"You will not stop learning Occlumency, Harry. You will simply cease receiving instructions from myself."

Harry blinked. "How will I learn it, then? I know I have the book from you, but you need a partner to work on Active Occlumency, don't you?"

"Correct, once again."

"So, who's going to be teaching me?"

"Professor Snape."

Harry actually gaped. "What?"

"He is the only other person within this country whom I trust to teach you the finer points of the Mind Arts. I know you dislike him, but it is truly essential that you learn Occlumency."

"I don't want him in my head, sir."

"I trust Severus, Harry-"

"I don't." the youth cut in bluntly. "He was a Death Eater, wasn't he? You don't just get over something like that. Why do you trust him, sir? If you can give me a good reason why I should trust Snape, then I will." Of course, Snape had saved him, but that was not enough. He could have done it out of pure hatred for Riddle. Or to maintain his good standing with Dumbledore.

His motives were unclear, to say the least.

Dumbledore looked extremely conflicted as he seemed to ponder his options. "There are things I cannot yet tell you." he said regretfully. "Not because I do not wish to, but because they are not my secrets to tell. I trust Severus Snape with my life, though I understand you may not share my confidence. Upon your return from the Easter Holidays, Severus shall swear an Unbreakable Vow regarding his conduct during your Occlumency lessons. There is no greater assurance that magic can provide."

There was a part of Harry that still desperately wanted to argue, but he couldn't. Dumbledore was right. If an Unbreakable Vow would not satisfy him, then there would be nothing capable of doing so. If Snape did indeed swear this vow, he physically could not do anything Harry was not comfortable with during their upcoming lessons.

Regretfully, he had no choice but to reluctantly agree.

"Sir," he asked cautiously after Dumbledore inquired whether or not he had any more questions before his dismissal, "I was wondering if I could ask you a… delicate question."

Dumbledore looked intrigued. "What is the nature of this question, Harry?"

"It's… complicated. It's sort of a legal question, but it has to do with the end of the last war."

Dumbledore looked cautious, but he nodded warily. "Very well, you may ask your question."

"Why are Sirius Black's trial records locked up so tightly?"

Dumbledore stiffened immediately, but he nodded in thought a moment later. "Yes, I suppose it is only natural that you would be interested in the topic of Sirius Black. That is a delicate topic indeed." Dumbledore very clearly hesitated. "I must ask you, Harry, that no information I am about to share with you leaves this office without my express permission." Harry nodded immediately, though he was at once questioning whether or not Dumbledore would allow him to inform Augusta about whatever he was about to say.

"The reason none of what I assume to be Augusta's subtle and legally questionable inquiries have been successful is because there is nothing to find."

Harry blinked. "Uh… what?"

"Sirius Black never had a trial, Harry. He was sent to Azkaban hours after killing Peter Pettigrew and those muggles in London."

Harry's eyes widened. "But that's not right!" he argued. "What if something messed with the eyewitness accounts?"

"And what could have done that, exactly?"

"I don't know. Some sort of magical illusion, or something? I'm sure there are ways it could have been done."

"There are," Dumbledore admitted, "but they would have been far beyond Peter Pettigrew's magical prowess. Of that, I can assure you." Dumbledore studied Harry pensively. "It bothers you very deeply, doesn't it?"

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, trying not to panic. If he had been suspicious before, his mind was now outright screaming "setup".

"Well then, let me assuage any worries you may have. After his capture, high-up members of the Ministry deemed it prudent to ship Sirius off to Azkaban without the due process of a trial. It was their way of ending the war once and for all and not increasing the drama surrounding Voldemort's fall. I caught wind of it before it happened. I was… less than pleased with the morality of said choice, but I did not stop them."

"YOU WHAT?"

"Let me finish, Harry. The reason I did not stop them is that by this point, I knew Sirius to be guilty of at least one crime despicable enough in my eyes to warrant time in Azkaban." Dumbledore paused. "Do you know what the Fidelius charm is, Harry?"

And that's when it clicked.

Dumbledore was one of the many who had been fooled. Dumbledore still believed Sirius to have been the secret keeper for the Potters.

"Sir, I know what you're going to say and it's not true! Sirius was never the secret keeper for my family."

If Dumbledore was surprised that Harry knew of the publicly perceived fact, he did not show it. "Pardon me if I am skeptical. I was personally told by Sirius, James and Lily that he had been chosen as their Secret Keeper. I am not saying you are deceiving me, simply that I believe you have been deceived. Where is it this information of yours is coming from, exactly?"

"My parents' will. It was unsealed on my twelfth birthday."

It was fast, so fast that Harry almost missed it, but Dumbledore's eyes widened and an emotion akin to panic showed across the old man's face.

"That is… a very reputable source." Dumbledore said quietly, clearly in deep thought. "I am… very confused as to how that could have been the case, but rest assured, I will take these new revelations into account." his eyes darkened. "If they are true, then I may well have unknowingly damned yet another innocent man to a decade long spent suffering a hellacious existence."

Harry met Dumbledore's eyes before standing to leave. "All of that can be undone if you can help me get to the truth, Headmaster."

* * *

_**Five minutes later…**_

Once Harry had left, Dumbledore sat in an Occlumency trance. He spent several minutes forcing his mind to replay every detail of his encounters with James, Sirius, Remus, Lily and Peter near the end of the first war.

He had seen nothing in them to indicate anything other than the fact that Sirius had been the secret keeper.

Yet, if the Potter Will stated it to be true…

Dumbledore sighed heavily, sagging in his throne-like seat. These last few weeks had been the most taxing in years. He had thought the pinnacle of that had been more than a month ago to the day, but evidently, that had not been the end of it.

* * *

_**The Past**_

_**February 15, 1993**_

_**The Headmaster's Office**_

_**4:26 AM**_

Severus Snape continued his hours-long pacing in the Headmaster's office, wringing his hands every few minutes as he went. To say that his stress levels were high would be obvious, yet it was not one strong enough to portray the entire depths of the truth.

Severus Snape was furious.

Furious with himself for allowing the adolescent bastard to get the jump on him, teenaged Dark Lord or not. Furious with himself for not unravelling the memory charm sooner, and furious with himself for his utter incompetence in the moments leading up to his defeat.

But most of all, Severus Snape was furious with Albus Dumbledore.

For so many reasons, Dumbledore had failed Snape, not just this year, but last.

Now, on this frigid, winter's night, hours after a fantastical confrontation in a fabled chamber that had been believed to be a work of fantasy, Severus Snape was steadfastly determined to get the answers he was looking for.

Finally, just as Snape turned on his heel to pace back away from the room's entrance, the door swung open, admitting the newly reinstated Hogwarts Headmaster and his pet phoenix. This occurrence also caused Snape to whirl around angrily, but Dumbledore held up a hand to forestall him. Only when the man had placed Fawkes back safely on his perch and taken the seat behind his desk, placing the now charred black book atop its surface, did he look up expectantly at his Potions Master.

"You've played me for a fool, Dumbledore!" Snape snarled, clearly enraged. Most men would have withered under Snape's venomous glare. Most men would have looked into his eyes and seen the nearly unhinged danger dancing behind them and taken the cue to retreat.

But Albus Dumbledore was not most men.

Dumbledore just peered back up at Snape with a raised eyebrow. Clearly, he realized the best thing to do would be to let his Potions Master vent.

"This whole time, nearly twelve years, it was supposed to be about protecting Lily Evans's son! This whole time, we had the plan laid out. We were to await his arrival at Hogwarts and keep him protected while we ourselves attempted to destroy the very dark lord who murdered his parents. The very dark lord, whom all these years, you have assured me lives on." Snape's lip curled. "Yet all these years, you have told me that you have never known how the Dark Lord evaded death. And now, all these years later, I've learned that you've lied to me this entire, God-forsaken time!"

"And what, exactly have I lied about, Severus?"

"EVERYTHING!"

Snape was pacing again, wringing his hands furiously as he tried to keep his deep, ragged breathing under control. His dark eyes seemed to gleam and bulge simultaneously in a way that made him look terrifying in the low light of the Headmaster's office. Terrifying in the way a man who is very obviously not in control of himself might look. A man who, days later, goes on to become a seemingly sadistic serial killer.

"The book!" Snape raged, whirling to face Dumbledore once more as he furiously jabbed a finger towards the destroyed remnants of the diary. "You knew about it all along! Maybe not the exact object, but you knew that somehow, the Dark Lord was storing his essence in an object, or objects, or whatever the bleeding hell else!"

"And what makes you say this, Severus?"

"You've known all along who opened the Chamber of Secrets. What did you say when the Creevey boy was petrified? Something along the lines of the who wasn't important? You knew even then that it was the Dark Lord, in one capacity or another. Yet you said nothing. Yet you aligned the pieces perfectly so that Potter was the only one who would figure it out. So that Potter was the one who would go after the Dark Lord. The same way that last year, you manipulated the situation into giving Potter the information he needed. And like last year, you knew exactly how your golden boy would act. You knew that he would put himself in harm's way and you did nothing to prevent it! How am I supposed to protect Lily's son when you keep trying so damn hard to get him KILLED! If this is your course of action, then what the hell am I doing this for?!"

Snape was panting now, actually panting from the exertion of laying himself bare for the Headmaster and screaming himself near hoarse in the process. Now, it was not only Snape who looked affected by the night's events. Whereas the Head of Slytherin House had looked furious, deranged and passionate, the Chief Warlock suddenly looked ancient, pained and exhausted.

"Please sit down, Severus. It is time that I explain things to you which I should have told you long ago. It is time that I explain the full scope of what it is we are fighting. But to do so, I need you to be calm and civil. And above all else, I need you to let me finish with no interruptions that are not questions which can be answered swiftly and simply."

Snape did not stop glaring at Dumbledore, but he did very reluctantly take a heavy seat across from him. Only when Dumbledore thought his counterpart was sufficiently under control did he withdraw his wand. With a casual flick, a cabinet on the far wall gently opened and a deep, ancient looking stone basin floated itself towards Dumbledore's desk, quickly settling atop it.

"Almost thirteen years ago, more than one year prior to Lord Voldemort's defeat in Godric's Hollow, I was privileged to hear a full, true prophecy, spoken by our eccentric Professor of Divination, Sybil Trelawney." Snape's posture stiffened immediately as a torrent of painful memories assaulted his psyche. "But of course, you knew this already, for it was also that fateful night when you carried the first half of the prophecy to Lord Voldemort. What neither of you knew, at the time, was how valuable the information contained in the latter half would be in the years to come."

Lifting his wand rather ominously, Dumbledore gently tapped it against the surface of the odd, silvery substance seductively swimming within the shallow depths of the basin. Snape's eyes widened and his breath hitched when a familiar figure rose from the basin, but not nearly as much as when the figure began to speak in a voice that sent shivers up and down Snape's spine.

He recognized that odd, raspy, enchanting voice. It was still the narrator of most of his nightmares, even to this day.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… matter and magic shall become interchangeable as dominant forces battle for the very elements of the world...

"In their quest for control, revenge and power, the world itself shall become the domain of those two who are one... only together can they shape the power the Dark Lord knows not... and the power shall grant his equal the payment he seeks for all the Dark Lord has taken from him... either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Ringing silence permeated Dumbledore's office as the two men sat in silence. Dumbledore looked completely calm, but he was wrought with tension, anxiously waiting to see how his Potions Master would react to these new, jarring revelations. For his part, Snape sat across from him, slack-jawed and stunned. He had, of course, been aware that there had been more to the prophecy than what he had carried to the Dark Lord all those years ago.

But now, Severus Snape realized the true scope of the situation for the first time. It took a rather monumental effort and years of practice in the field of Occlumency for the former Death Eater to stay calm but when he next spoke, his voice was void of any and all emotion.

"Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives? So again, you have lied to me. This whole time, it was supposed to be about protecting Harry Potter. When, in reality, Potter is destined to kill or be killed in spite of our efforts?" Snape paused. "This is why you have sent him headfirst into these situations, is it not? In the hopes that he would somehow replicate his feat from more than a decade ago and vanquish him once more?"

"That is not my rationale, no." Dumbledore answered quietly. "The truth is, Severus, that I have been negligent in the way of Harry. Until very recently, my interpretation of the prophecy was more… literal. Either must die at the hand of the other. To me, this led me to believe that Lord Voldemort himself was the only one capable of killing Harry, as is the case in reverse. This is why last year, in the catacombs, I was completely unconcerned about dear Professor Quirrell. This year too. While Tom Riddle is technically Lord Voldemort, the prophecy speaks of the Dark Lord. At the time of his graduation, Tom Riddle had not yet ascended to that lofty title.

"It is true that all year, I have suspected him to have one way or another orchestrated the reopening of the Chamber of Secrets. However, it was my belief for a very long time that whatever form Lord Voldemort currently takes does not qualify as a candidate to kill Harry."

"Until recently?" Snape asked softly. "What has changed? As idiotically bold and foolishly risky as your logic is, it sounds… somewhat plausible."

"What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room under any circumstances. I trust your ability as an Occlumens so I shall not bind you with such things as an oath, but I need you to promise me this."

Snape nodded curtly and Dumbledore drew a long, deep breath.

"Do you know what a horcrux is, Severus?"

Snape paused. "I have… read the term in passing. Nothing beyond that."

"I am not surprised. A horcrux is any object which is enchanted to anchor a witch or wizard to the realm of the living after death."

Snape's eyes widened. "Impossible." he dismissed.

"Not quite." Dumbledore countered. "Surely you realize that what lived in that diary was no memory?" Reluctantly, Snape nodded. "The way a horcrux works, Severus, is by taking advantage of an act by a witch or wizard which is so heinous that it physically tears the soul. Once this is done, there is a ritual of some sort that allows for the person in question to place that fragmented part of their soul into the object of their choosing. At which point, the object will serve as a container."

Suddenly, Snape had gone extremely pale as his eyes widened. "But to damage one's own soul…" he mused, "it is a violation of nature itself, is it not? I can think of only one other spell which touches the soul in that sense."

"The Killing Curse, yes. It is no coincidence that an act of murder is a prerequisite for whatever warped ritual is required to create a horcrux. I have searched long and hard for ways in which Tom may have survived at Godric's Hollow. I… had heard of horcruxes many, many years ago and for a very long time, I had suspected that was how Tom had done it. It certainly fits with his obvious loss of humanity over the years. You will find, however, that researching horcruxes is nearly impossible.

"The Ministry has not only banned any magic pertaining to the soul, but they have buried references to it very deep. One of the last remaining tomes in the country actually rested within the Hogwarts library for a very long time. I was rather… insistent that it be removed, but Armando Dippett was not one to abandon tradition. By the time I took this seat as Headmaster, I had the book hidden away. Unfortunately, Tom Riddle had evidently found it long before.

"It took me many years to find hard facts about horcruxes. I was woefully unsuccessful in any and all attempts until last July, when I paid a visit to Greece and did my best to track down any information in regards to Herpo the Foul."

"He was the first recorded Parselmouth, was he not?" Snape asked carefully.

"Indeed he was. He was also the first recorded person to hatch the very monster you yourself have just destroyed. More importantly, for our current conversation, according to _Magick Moste Evile _and _Secrets of the Darkest Art, _Herpo was also the first wizard who ever experimented with the tearing of one's soul. Seeing as the Greeks were the first nation to mass theorize in regards to the soul and its workings in magic, this fact is hardly surprising. Last summer, I took an expedition to Greece to confirm several of my own... personal theories, as well as hopefully further my knowledge on the subject by studying the very creator of the thing itself.

"One theory that I do believe to be correct is that Tom did not make a horcrux. He made horcruxes, as in the plural."

Snape actually choked. "He did what?" The man seemed to take a moment to compose himself. "That… sounds impossible. What would be the consequences of violating nature more than once?"

"I imagine his humanity has paid the price. It would also explain the deterioration in his appearance over the years. You saw what Tom Riddle once looked like tonight. I am sure he shared little resemblance with the monster known as Lord Voldemort."

Snape nodded reluctantly. "How many do you think he made?"

"On that front, I do not know. Perhaps three? I can certainly see Tom trending in the direction of an arithmetically powerful number."

Snape paled. "Is… seven theoretically possible?"

"Ah yes, your mind has gone there as well, has it?"

"The Dark Lord bragged openly of pushing magic further than any other. It would be… in character."

"I confess, I have no idea whether or not a seven-part soul is even possible, let alone at all practical. Rest assured, I intend to look further into the process. Unfortunately, Herpo never seemed to have considered more than one."

"Has anyone?"

"I believe Tom to be the first, but that is no more than speculation on my part."

Snape took a deep breath. "So Potter must either kill the temporarily immortal Dark Lord or he will die at his hand?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes, looking positively ancient as he nodded slowly. "Correct."

"Is that what you have been teaching him then? All the countless hours he has spent locked away in this office with you?"

Dumbledore hesitated. "I have not been teaching Harry magic directly, no."

Snape's eyes blazed once more. "Explain!"

Dumbledore looked pensively back at Snape. "I must ask you once more to stay calm and to not interrupt me." Snape nodded curtly. "That night in Godric's Hollow, when Lord Voldemort sought to destroy the child of prophecy, he did not account for Lily Potter's sacrifice. The Killing Curse rebounded, striking its caster and tearing his soul forcefully from his body. That night, the Killing Curse did more than vanquish Lord Voldemort. It formed a connection between him and Harry. A connection far deeper than any two wizards have ever shared, if I am correct." Snape's eyes bulged as his skin seemed to lose all colouration. Before he could inevitably interrupt, Dumbledore pressed on.

"I imagine you have put the pieces together as I have. Voldemort's soul, already so fractured and unstable tore once more that night. While part of it fled to some unknown corner of the Earth, part of it sought preservation. A fundamental truth about the soul is that it cannot survive without a container, preferably one that is alive, if possible. That night in Godric's Hollow, when the Killing Curse rebounded, a piece of Lord Voldemort's soul desperately latched itself onto the only living thing it could find in that room. At the moment, a piece of Voldemort's soul lives on inside of Harry. Until it is destroyed, Voldemort can never truly die."

"So," Snape said in a soft, toneless voice, "the boy must die?"

Dumbledore's stare was pensive and it appeared almost lifeless. "For many years, I believed that to be the case. That was another one of my theories I sought to confirm in Greece. Funnily enough, Herpo did hypothesize about a living horcrux. For him, it was going to be his treasured basilisk. Unfortunately for my search, Herpo only toyed with the idea for a brief period of time. His speculations were nothing more than that. However, from what he wrote on the subject, I am far less certain of the fact that Harry must die. Indeed, I will be out once more this summer, investigating the topic further. It is my belief that Harry can be spared whilst the horcrux is still destroyed." Dumbledore fixed Snape with a hard stare.

"I know you think I have failed you, Severus, and you are in essence correct. For indeed, Tom Riddle was the Dark Lord, just an abstract part of him. In my wildest dreams, I did not think one of Riddle's horcruxes to be the cause of this year's fiasco. If I had realized how directly involved Voldemort was, I would not have risked Harry as a result of my admittedly shortsighted interpretation of the prophecy. You have my word that in the future, I will do my utmost to keep the boy safe. Additionally, I will search far and wide and will not stop until I find exactly how the horcrux can be vanquished and the container left intact. You have my word, Severus. I shall make an Unbreakable Vow if you wish it."

Snape studied him. "You've been teaching him Occlumency then? You fear the Dark Lord may become aware of and exploit this connection you speak of?" Dumbledore nodded and Snape stood. "I need no vow from you, Dumbledore. Going forward, I will be teaching the boy to defend his mind from the Dark Lord. If Lily's son is to kill or be killed, I shall have him armed with the weapons to do so. You can teach him better than I to stand against the Dark Lord. I shall not allow you to waste your time on his mind any longer. I shall teach him the necessary tools to defend his mind, and you will teach him the necessary tools to survive. These are my conditions for forgiveness, Dumbledore. Take them or leave them."

"Why, Severus, it touches me deeply that you have grown to care for the boy."

Snape scowled and withdrew his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" he bit out in the tone one may expect from a severely wounded animal. Seconds later, a silver doe had coalesced in the center of Dumbledore's office. "I will never forget, Dumbledore."

With watery eyes, the Hogwarts Headmaster nodded. "Very well, Severus," he breathed, "I agree to your terms."

* * *

**Author's Endnote:**

**First and foremost, I would like to apologize for missing my upload last Sunday. My betas were unable to edit the chapter and my work life got hectic. I knew that I would never post this unless they edited it anyways, so I decided to take a few days off of writing for my own mental health since I knew I would miss my update schedule, no matter what.**

**I apologize for that and it will not happen again. At least not until year 2 is concluded, at which point, there will be a lengthy delay between years.**

**There were very mixed reactions to a new prophecy reveal in my story "Harry Potter and the Ashes of Chaos" so we shall see how this one goes over.**

**Frankly, I'm just bored of the canon prophecy. It's been done so many times that you all know what it entails. It limits what I can do, to an extent. This way, I can at least add an element of mystery/suspense, and I did so without scrapping any of the prophecy. In AoC, I rewrote the whole damn thing and made it much longer. Here, I did not go quite that far, so we shall see what you all think.**

**And Dumbledore will tell Harry the prophecy sooner than he did in canon. I'm just putting that out there before you all think this is going to turn into an evil, manipulative Dumbledore. He will swing situations in his favour or in the perceived favour of those he holds dear, but this is and will always be a good Dumbledore. **

**Aside from that, I cut about 4k words from this chapter because I found them wholly unnecessary. I hope doing so did not ruin the flow of the chapter in any way.**

**Three chapters left in year 2, so I hope you are all ready!**

**Please read and review.**

**PS: The next chapter will release on Sunday, September 6th, 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST**

**Thank you to my lovely Discord editors for their additional corrections this week:**

**Asmodeus Stahl, Speedster, TauNeutrino and theblindsoldier.**


	37. LOS Ch 22: Turning the Tables

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

**Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. **

**In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Twitter ( ACI_100( by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works.**

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows**

**Chapter 22: Turning the Tables**

* * *

_**March 29, 1993**_

_**Malfoy Manor**_

_**9:13 PM**_

In a blur of blue light, Lucius appeared in the centre of Malfoy Manor's extravagant entrance hall. He had just taken his personalized portkey back to the manor and at present, he wore a rather pensive expression.

Exactly six weeks prior, Lucius's plan to get Albus Dumbledore removed from his position of power at Hogwarts had backfired. Mysterious, deadly events had been taking place at Hogwarts, and Lucius was nothing if not an opportunist. For a very brief time, his plan had worked. Dumbledore had indeed vacated the castle, but he had returned only days later.

As unfortunate as that whole debacle had been, the worst part of it all was when he had rushed to Hogwarts after being informed Dumbledore had returned.

That had possibly been the worst political defeat of his career and one of the worst nights of his life.

First, he found out that every single member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors had sold him out to Dumbledore. This not only meant that his plan failed, but it also meant that he would soon be losing his place on the board, let alone atop it.

But it got worse.

Dumbledore then presented the diary as the thing that had opened the Chamber of Secrets, and the Potter boy had been convinced it had been slipped into the youngest Weasley's cauldron in Flourish and Blotts back in August.

Two things were jarring about that story to Lucius.

The first of which was that he knew that diary. It had been safely secured in the manor for many years. Ever since it had been presented to Lucius by the Dark Lord himself, he had honoured his lord's wishes and kept the diary safe. He had not so much as touched it in over a decade.

That fact only made his second observation far more jarring.

It had not been Lucius who had put the diary in that girl's cauldron. Lucius was far too careful to throw away one of the Dark Lord's heirlooms on a limb. Let alone one he had been tasked with protecting and had no idea as to the function of.

So that meant something quite troubling for Lucius.

Somebody else had managed to get ahold of the diary without him knowing and had slipped it into Ginny Weasley's cauldron.

For the past number of weeks, Lucius had contemplated who could have done such a thing and how he could spin it, if it all.

Of course, Arthur Weasley had been his initial candidate. The man and his team had raided his home several times during the summer. The problem was that Lucius knew they had never found the diary. He had fearfully verified that fact each time they had visited. He had still considered whether or not spinning the whole thing to frame Arthur was possible, but he had eventually decided it wasn't. The man may have been a fool, but Lucius doubted he was so incompetent as not to keep very straight records of everything his team had acquired.

So that was out.

He had considered several other options after that, but from that point forward, Lucius had always sort of known who was responsible. Admittedly, it was a fact he was not happy with. It was a fact that worried him greatly, so he had spent the last few weeks in vain searching out alternative options, hoping he would prove himself wrong.

He had been unsuccessful in the endeavour.

In light of that unfortunate truth, the first thing Lucius did after arriving back at the manor and reinforcing his Occlumency measures was to sharply instruct an elf to inform Narcissa to meet him in the Master's Study in fifteen minutes. When he arrived in the room, he waited in a sort of trance, organizing all the thoughts in his mind until, after a time, there came a knock on the door.

"Enter."

The Master's Study was the most heavily warded room in the entire manor. Except for himself, master of the wards, and the house elves, for some Merlin forsaken reason, none could enter the room of their own accord. Not even family.

When Narcissa entered, Lucius noticed right away that her expression was equally as pensive as his own. At once, he knew this could quickly turn into a drawn-out battle of wits, the likes of which he was completely uninterested in partaking in. With that in mind, once his wife had primly taken her seat across from him, he decided to cut straight to the matter at hand.

"We have a problem, Narcissa."

Her expression did not change. "What problem is that, husband?"

"For years, I had a very prized artifact in my possession. For more than eleven years, in fact. It was an artifact which I treasured very greatly." He pierced her with an intense gaze. "An artifact which was given to me by the lord who I dedicated my life to."

Still, Narcissa's expression stayed impassive.

"Imagine my surprise, Narcissa, when I found out that said artifact was missing. Not by a thorough investigation on my part, either. Would you like to know how I found out my most prized possession had vanished?" Narcissa tilted her head in answer, so Lucius continued. "I found out when Albus Dumbledore thrust the thing in my face. Worse still, the Potter brat made some rather… bold insinuations. According to him, that very artifact was responsible for all of the mystery and chaos at Hogwarts this year. Even worse, according to the boy, it was slipped into Ginevra Weasley's cauldron back in August whilst on a trip to Flourish and Blotts."

"What is your point, Lucius?"

"My point, Narcissa, is that after doing some digging, I've come to the conclusion that the Potter brat is right, loathe as I am to admit it. What I found to be baffling was the fact that I am quite certain I never gave that diary to the blood traitor brat. I would never, in my wildest dreams, carelessly throw away an artifact which once belonged to the Dark Lord.

"I thought at first that perhaps Arthur Weasley was responsible. After all, he did spend some time in this house last summer. But that didn't make sense. I've spent weeks looking for alternatives, but have found none. There is only one person who could have given the girl that diary, Narcissa."

He didn't need to explicitly make the accusation. Both of them knew exactly what he was insinuating. After a time, Narcissa unfolded her hand and leaned forwards. "So you've caught me, Lucius. I still don't see what the problem is?"

"Don't you?" Lucius hissed furiously. "Well then, let me spell it out to you, wife of mine. The Dark Lord is many things. Being dead is not one of them. I am certain of it. The Dark Lord shall return and when he does, he will seek the artifact which he told me to protect with my life if needed. Imagine his displeasure when he finds out the artifact has been carelessly discarded. The Dark Lord is not merciful, Narcissa. He is a vengeful man with no time for mercy. When he rises, we are fucked! Both of us are dead because of whatever insolent scheme you are cooking up!"

A long, tense silence stretched between the two of them as Lucius's pale grey eyes bore forcefully into Narcissa's deep blue orbs. After a long pause, Narcissa did the last thing Lucius expected.

She smiled.

"Ah, Lucius, for as long as we've been together, sometimes I forget the differences between us."

"Pardon?"

"You are a Malfoy, yet I am a Black," she stated proudly. "You're so stuck in your convoluted, political chess games that sometimes, you fail to see the bigger picture. You're so used to playing like a Malfoy."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you wait for an opportunity and only when it arises do you strike. Us Blacks, we create our opportunities. The difference between you and I, husband, is that you're playing to survive and not to lose. I, on the other hand, am playing to prosper and to win."

"Yes, and so much good it has caused you, being foolish and reckless! So much good it will do when the Dark Lord rises and seeks his vengeance!"

"I admit, I misplayed my hand," Narcissa said casually. "I underestimated the Potter brat, as you called him."

"Potter? You risked all of this for Potter!"

"Not for Potter, Lucius. At first, it was Potter I was after. To my knowledge, he never did find out that it was I who poisoned Augusta Longbottom, though it was, in fact, meant for Potter himself. Nor that it was I who imparted the diary to Ginny Weasley, in hopes that whatever magic the Dark Lord placed onto the artifact would finish Potter for me. Even if he did find out, he might think I was some sort of psychotic mother trying to protect her battered child.

"The truth is, it never had anything to do with Draco." She paused. "Actually, it had everything to do with Draco, but not in that way."

"Explain!"

"By right, Draco is the Black heir. The only other boy to have a semi-valid claim is Potter himself. Now, there is no reason that Potter should get the title over Draco. No reason except for the fact that Arcturus chose Sirius as lord before his death. If he chose Sirius over Bellatrix or any of the other Blacks, he may have written us out entirely. One thing about Arcturus though, is that he would never let his family die. He may have written all of us out, but he would make sure that the clause was void if no other options were available. By taking out Potter, my goal was to claim the House of Black once more. Not just for myself and our son, but for our Lord when he one-day returns.

"But lately, my plans have changed. When thinking about the return of our Lord, some things must be done. Whatever state he is currently in, it isn't ideal. He will likely require a ritual of sorts to restore his power, possibly even his body. The Malfoy library is expansive, but it lacks greatly in that sort of magic. That is the sort of ancient knowledge that has been lost to time. The Black library, on the other hand, is teeming with all of the information we and our Lord could ever want.

"Our Lord will not punish us, because it is we who shall find him. It is us who shall use the House of Black and its resources to build him up anew. All we have to do is get rid of Harry Potter in a way that doesn't implicate ourselves."

"Impossible," Lucius cut in, though by now, he was starting to see her perspective of things. "The boy is protected at all times. We can not hope to touch him at Longbottom Manor, least of all at Hogwarts."

Narcissa's smile was so cold and predatory that if not for Occlumency, Lucius may have actually recoiled. "Oh, Lucius, don't worry about that. I know exactly how we're going to do it, and it will never be traced back to the two of us. Unfortunately, it's a… long term project that I'll need my lovely husband's with."

Lucius sighed internally. At this point, it's not as if their situation could get any worse. "Fine, Narcissa," he said. He then asked, "What is it you're planning, exactly?"

* * *

_**April 12, 1993**_

_**Longbottom Manor**_

_**3:12 PM**_

As he tried to catch his breath after a particularly intense mock duel, Harry felt a rather significant swell of relief when Moody announced the end of that afternoon's session. The man had been more than impressed with his pupil for learning the bone-breaker so promptly. Harry could even cast it non-verbally, though not nearly as quickly or as efficiently as he could with the use of incantations. Their duels were more competitive, as well. Moody was very clearly still the better duellist, of course, but the gap, wide as it still might be, was closing. By now, both of them knew that one day in the future, Harry would likely surpass the man who had taken him under his wing.

"Solid day's work, Potter," Moody grunted as a way of praise. "I guess I need to come up with a new task for ya whilst you're off at Hogwarts for these last few months, eh?"

"Or you could take a semester off?" Harry offered jokingly. Both of them knew he didn't really want that. Harry embraced the challenge that Moody offered up each and every time he went back to school, and both of them knew that.

"Old Moody doesn't get along too well with time off," Moody understated. "Busy is better for me. Always has been, always will be. And if I can't watch you directly, I'm gonna make damn sure you're improving." He paused. "I guess you'll have two goals this time, actually. Whatever I come up with for you, and making sure that Longbottom stays the course."

"You started teaching him, too?"

"Yep," Moody affirmed. "He's not there yet. Heaps of potential, but real raw. Talented, but needs a ton of work. He'll probably never come close to you, but not many ever will. I'll turn 'em into something special though. I just need the time."

"How did his first session go?"

"Terrible," Moody said cheerfully as if watching Neville struggle was something he had taken intense pleasure in. "As I said, he's not ready. Not even close. Luckily for him, he's eager and he's got heart. Tons of it. Every time he got knocked down, he would just get up and keep on walking forward. You can teach a lot of things, but you can't teach heart. His heart and his talent are gonna carry him places. Like I keep saying, it's just a matter of time."

Harry nodded. It had been an eventful first few days of Easter break, but he suspected it was about to die down, except for his perpetually brutal lessons with the crazed ex-auror who currently stood in front of him. On the first night back, he had told Augusta everything Dumbledore had told him about Sirius Black. Of course, he had done so only after asking Dumbledore's permission.

Harry was a lot of things. Among them, he liked to think of himself as a man of his word. Oaths or not, he was going to uphold his end of the bargain. And Dumbledore was a reasonable man. He had easily acquiesced and allowed Harry to tell Augusta. All he had wanted was the same sureties from her that she wouldn't go running off and telling anybody what she had been told and who had started the spread of information.

Augusta still seemed quite pessimistic, but she was keeping an eye on the whole situation from a political standpoint.

"So what's your next task for me, then?" Harry asked, actually quite curious.

"The Flagrete charm."

Harry raised a brow. "I know that charm-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know you 'know it'. You used it five minutes ago for Merlin's sake. But it's of no use to you the way you do it. Your control is pitiful. You may as well just use Incendio right now for all the good the control is doing you. I don't want you to 'know it.' I want you to _master it. _Am I understood?"

Harry nodded. That did sound much more on brand, yes. At first, it had sounded far too easy for Moody. But this would be a challenge. Of that, at least, he was sure.

* * *

_**April 20, 1993**_

_**Severus Snape's Office**_

_**8:00 PM**_

Merlin, Harry was exhausted.

His schedule had frankly been ridiculous already, but now it was just getting out of hand.

All of the students had travelled back to Hogwarts on Sunday via the Hogwarts Express. When they had arrived, they all enjoyed one night of peace before their schedules filled up again.

For Harry, that was a very literal expression.

That first day back, he had not only had classes, but also a duelling session with Professor Flitwick. Today, Tuesday, was worse. He had gone through all of his classes, eaten dinner and quickly exited the castle alongside his teammates for a full team practice, now that Quidditch was once again ongoing, as the castle did not seem to be under threat from any mysterious plots or enemies.

After a gruelling practice, Harry had practically sprinted into the showers. He had experienced a lot of short showers in his lifetime; such was the reality of spending most of it on Privet Drive. But this may well have taken the cake. When he finished, he ran up to the castle and used every shortcut available to him, with the help of the Marauder's Map, to reach where he was at now.

Only now did he pause, but not because he had time to spare. For one thing, he was extremely out of breath, and that was not exactly the image he was hoping to put forth. For another, his anxiety was through the roof.

Having Dumbledore try to breach his mind had been nerve-wracking. Having Snape try and do likewise was so much worse. He had dreaded this meeting ever since Dumbledore had informed him of the plan weeks earlier. If Snape couldn't be trusted to treat him fairly in Potions, how could he possibly be trusted to go snooping around inside Harry's mind?

Well, of course, Harry knew the answer. True to his word, Snape had indeed sworn an Unbreakable Vow that first night back at the castle. Even in spite of that, Harry just had a hard time trusting the Potions Master.

After a few deep, slow, calming breaths, Harry blanked his expression and knocked sharply upon the Potion Master's door.

"Enter,"

When Harry pushed the door open, he was greeted by an odd scene. Snape was standing near his desk, still wearing the same black robes he frequented everyday. That was not the odd part. That fact, or object, was whatever sat atop Snape's desk. If it were Dumbledore in the room with him, Harry would have inquired about it. With Snape, he felt much less comfortable asking questions.

"It is a pensieve," Snape answered without prompting. "An ancient device which has existed in obscurity for centuries. Rare, expensive and almost impossible to acquire. This one here belongs to the Headmaster. He was… gracious enough to lend it to me for these… lessons."

Hesitantly, Harry asked his question. "What is it for, sir?" It was always rather bitter addressing Snape as "sir" but he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter.

"Storing memories," Snape answered curtly. "I have no doubt that the chances of you intentionally breaching my mind are non-existent. But magic is such a delicate force. You never know what it is capable of when… provoked. First lesson," Snape snapped, "always keep your mind guarded. It is not enough to have a guarded mind when a legilimens aims their wand at your skull. You must always be on guard, Potter. Never assume yourself to be safe. Your status means nothing against those who wish to invade your mind. For all of Headmaster Dumbledore's prodigious talents, he has not seemed to have instilled this message onto you."

Harry felt a spark of annoyance at the final insinuation, but Snape had a point. Not just in regards to Legilimency, either. Harry needed to be more cautious in general.

As if to drill in the thought, Snape's wand appeared from nowhere and suddenly aimed at Harry.

"Legilimens."

Fortunately, the probe was intentionally weak and after a flash of memories that lasted a second or two, Harry managed to clear his mind, effectively forcing Snape out. That was what he and Dumbledore had spent so much time working on this year after the initial, more crude method he had learned at the beginning of the year.

Snape's face did not change, but he nodded curtly. "Adequate," he summarized. "I will be teaching you to do it better, but an admirable attempt. This is by no means the perfect solution, but you must learn to defend your mind against more powerful attacks sooner rather than later. Until we work your natural defences to a point where I am confident in them, I will be teaching you a method I myself pioneered years ago."

Grudgingly, Harry had to admit he was interested. If nothing else, Snape was obviously masterful with mind magicks. He had managed to not only unravel an obliviation, something Dumbledore had made clear was nearly impossible, but he had even somehow beaten a paralytic potion through the powers of his mind alone.

"What kind of method, sir?"

"Are you aware of thought streams, Potter?"

"Yes."

"Yes, sir."

Harry's teeth ground together. "Yes, sir."

"Good. This will require two streams of thought. With one, you will focus completely on clearing your mind, which is of course the most effective way of forcing out intruders. With the other, you will focus on the more crude method of imaginative physical removal. Hopefully, the intruding force will be so occupied by the first that they will be blindsided by the second, more basic defence."

Harry bit his lip. "I can keep two thought streams open, but I doubt I can use both at once towards Occlumency. I'm… still sort of working on the whole 'thought stream thing.'"

Snape scowled. "I would have thought that much obvious, Potter. These are called lessons, not showcases. It stands to reason I will be teaching you, not simply instructing you. Listen closely, obey my commands at all times, and soon enough, it will cause you no trouble at all."

Harry knew right then and there these lessons were either going to be one of the best or worst things to ever happen to him.

As of yet, he was unsure which they would be.

* * *

_**April 21, 1993**_

_**An Abandoned Classroom**_

_**9:46 PM**_

Harry concluded yet another night of work with Daphne. This time, it had been he who was helping her. Tonight, it had been in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Seeing as their past two teachers in the subject had been completely inept, Harry could hardly blame Daphne for having some issues in the subject.

"I've heard exams may not even happen this year," Daphne said with a sigh.

"What?" Harry asked, surprised.

"With the whole nonsense involving the petrifications, people are unsure. Some of the students missed so much time that their scores probably wouldn't be favourable. Plus, it can easily be argued that the stress of this year took away from performances." She shrugged. "We also went a week or so without Potions, and we now know our teacher for Defence was useless." Since Lockhart's departure, the other teachers had taken it, in turn, to teach Defence when they didn't have their other classes. This had meant that students now attended one class in the subject per week instead of two. Thinking about it this way, Harry wouldn't be surprised if they really did cancel the exams.

"This year's been a nightmare," he understated.

"For you especially," Daphne pointed out. "You went from being the Heir of Slytherin according to most, to fighting his damned monster."

"Yeah… it's been a long year."

"Any plans for the summer?"

He shrugged. "Not right now, I don't think. I usually end up doing everything last minute though. Whatever I do this summer, I just want it to be stuff that I've planned. Not stuff that gets dropped on my head at the last minute by somebody who's trying to kill me." He winced. "Sorry, that sounded really overdramatic."

"It did," Daphne admitted. "I would probably give anyone else hell for saying something like that. You're probably the only person I know who could say anything close to that and have it be completely true though, so you get a pass."

Harry's lips twitched. "How kind of you."

"Nothing out of the ordinary, then. I'm always kind. As well as charming, intelligent, entrancing, insightful and modest."

Harry laughed. "Modest in particular."

"Exactly,"

After about five more minutes of talking, Harry and Daphne went their separate ways. On the way back to the common room, Harry bumped into yet another one of his female friends. "Hey, Harry!"

"Oh, hey Parvati. We haven't really talked much since Easter. How were your holidays?"

"They were good. It made me wish for summer though. I can't wait for some time off with family. Just some time to relax, you know."

"Yeah, I do. I really feel that, honestly."

"Not that the classes are any trouble for you," Parvati teased as they continued their walk to the common room together.

"It's been all of the other stuff that's been exhausting, to tell the truth. All of the Heir of Slytherin crap."

Parvati nodded sagely. "I understand. It's horrible how everybody treated you. Isn't it funny how suddenly, you're the saviour of the school?"

"Yeah, it is a bit, isn't it?"

"Mmhm. You should use it."

Harry's step almost faltered. Whatever he had thought about Parvati, he had not suspected her the type to be giving political advice of any sort. "How so?"

"Well, it's the perfect time. Your name is everywhere. Even the _Prophet _did a speculation piece on you. It is kind of suspicious. Students go missing in the middle of the night. The next morning, the threat has passed, and Harry Potter is getting an award for special services to the school."

Harry shrugged. "I can't really comment on all of that."

"You didn't have to, Harry. I know you'd tell me if you could. I'm just saying," Parvati put in as they neared the common room, "It's the perfect time to make new allies and build new bridges."

As the two Gryffindors entered their common room, neither of them noticed the brief shimmer in the air behind them.

* * *

_**April 22, 1993**_

_**The Room of Requirement**_

_**8:53 PM**_

Harry slumped to the floor yet again, beaten easily by the Hogwarts Headmaster for the third time in as many duels. Of course, being beaten by Albus Dumbledore was no surprise. The surprising thing was that he had used only spells Harry knew to do it, and he had done it with extreme ease.

Earlier in the week, Dumbledore had written Harry to inquire whether or not he might know of a place in the castle suitable for more practical lessons. It had been an intense, internal debate but after some thought, Harry had decided to let him in on the secret of the Room of Requirement.

Tonight, after Dumbledore had spent five or so minutes marvelling at the room and examining its every square inch very closely, he had explained to Harry that they would duel three times. During these duels, he would only use spells he was certain Harry could cast. This had given the youth a brief glimpse of hope, but it had been crushed rather decisively, as all of his aching muscles could currently attest to.

"That will do, I think," said Dumbledore. The blasted man didn't even seem to be out of breath. Mind you, he had barely moved. He had not used movement to defend himself. Harry suspected that probably had something to do with his age, but he hadn't exactly needed it. "What did you learn from that, Harry?"

"Not to take people or basic magic lightly?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Perhaps a bit of that, yes. More specifically, I wanted to tie this back to the pillars of magic we spoke of earlier in the year. This, in many ways, was a lesson in the importance of creativity. I used very basic spells, as you said. The difference, as I'm sure you have observed, is that I used them in ways you may not have seen before." Harry nodded. "That is what we will start with, in a sense. Ways to defend yourself without utilizing mass amounts of magic and exhausting oneself." His lips twitched. "And some Transfiguration, of course. It has always been my specific area of expertise, and it is only natural I take the time to teach it to you."

"What part of it, sir?"

"Conjurations," When Harry looked apprehensive, Dumbledore smiled. "I am aware this is very far beyond what you are meant to be learning. But I am equally confident that you will manage it. After all, a bone-breaker is very far beyond what I would have expected from a second year as well."

Harry winced. "You're not… upset at that? Me using a spell a lot of people would consider dark or evil?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I am not thrilled that you have gone out of your way to learn it, but I do grudgingly approve. There is no use hiding from the truth. Lord Voldemort is seeking to return. For all we know, a war could well be on the horizon. And after the events of your first two years at this school, I think you to be justified in your pursuit to learn to defend yourself by any means necessary. If a war does happen in particular, you will need all the weapons you can acquire. The true tragedy of war is oftentimes not the destruction, nor even the death. Most often, some of the most tragic things that happen in a war are the things the victor needs to do to win. Things that will haunt the victor for years to come. You never win a war, Harry. You only survive.

"I will never judge you for learning things you think will help." He paused. "Within reason, at least. There are certain magicks which should never be touched, but that is a topic for another day." Idly, Harry remembered Gabrielle's vague insinuations about soul magic. Perhaps that was what Dumbledore was talking about.

"Do what you and those helping you think necessary," Dumbledore continued. "Rest assured that as long as you do not allow what you learn to warp you, you are in the right. It is not the magic that makes a person. It is a person that makes the magic. Magic is a blank slate to be warped as we choose. It does not discriminate between light and dark, or good and evil. That is up to the caster. There is no such thing as evil magic, as long as you are using it in the name of good, and using it to combat those who would turn the force against the very world itself. As long as you hold true to that, Harry, you shall forever have my blessing."

* * *

_**April 23, 1993**_

_**An Abandoned Classroom**_

_**8:34 PM**_

As Harry dodged a particularly nasty curse fired off by Fred, he privately reflected that he had done a lot of duelling this week. Not that such things were bad in the slightest. He was going to need to do a whole lot more duelling if he was to reach the level he would one day need to reach. If only he had mastered conjurations.

He was a long way off of that.

He and Dumbledore had worked on extremely basic conjurations the night previous. Specifically, the conjuration of birds. It was still sixth-year material, but it was the typical first lesson of sixth year, according to Dumbledore. Seeing as Harry was currently somewhere in the fifth year in terms of the curriculum, it wasn't too much of a stretch. In saying that, he had not managed it last night, unfortunately. The goal was to have Harry be able to conjure birds. Not transfigure them, like one might do with the Avifors charm, but to truly conjure them from the air on a moment's notice. That was how they could be useful in combat. Dumbledore had showed as much, using them to defend a variety of attacks by Harry. And that was saying nothing of their large numbers and razor-sharp beaks.

To put it simply, they were no breeze for your opponent if deployed offensively, either.

But Harry's mind was not currently on Transfiguration.

As of now, his mind was focused on finally beating Fred Weasley.

He had beaten all of the chasers already and had even bested Lee Jordan.

But the twins eluded him for one simple reason.

The doppelganger charm.

Every time he had come close to a victory, that spell had been used to beat him.

Tonight was going to be different.

All he needed to do was put Fred in a position to cast it, and then the game was up. By now, he realized when Fred would cast the charm. He would resort to it as soon as Harry managed to put him under intense pressure. This wasn't too much of a problem for Harry. When they had first duelled, it had been reasonably competitive, but Harry had spent most of the duel on the defensive. Now, their duels were nearly a stalemate throughout.

Until the blasted doppelganger charm was deployed, of course.

Sidestepping a volley of spells from Fred, Harry fired three bolts of fire towards the twin in quick succession. With a yelp, he dove to the side, and Harry's well-placed cutting curse opened a fair-sized gash on his arm. Harry did not cease pressing his advantage, either. He continued to reign down spells on Fred, who finally gave in, seeing no path to victory except the one that had worked several times before.

Harry sprinted out of the way of the return volley, angling himself up against the wall, seeming as if he were cornered.

Both Freds smirked as they spoke as one. "Giving up so easily, Harrikins?"

When Harry's answer was a rather mean smile, both Freds faltered. "Not at all, Fredikins," Harry responded. "Just drawing you in." And then, he raised his wand with a gleam in his eye, remembering the letter from several weeks ago which had effectively solved his persistent problem with the doppelganger charm.

* * *

_**The Past**_

_**March 26, 1993**_

_**The Great Hall**_

_**8:21 AM**_

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm really glad that everything has cleared up for you. I do wonder whether you did a bit more than tell a professor what was happening. At Beauxbatons, you would certainly not be praised so highly for doing what is expected of you. But congratulations either way. You don't have to tell me what happened if you don't want to._

_We do take standardized exams at the end of each year, yes. The main difference is that in Britain, I believe you take what you call Ordinary Wizarding Levels at the end of your fifth year. This is a major point in any Hogwarts student's life, from what I have heard. Those exams are very important and determine future career options, right? _

_At Beauxbatons, we have a similar practice. We take ours at the end of sixth year. I personally prefer our way of doing it. It seems silly that you take them so early. I know a year may not seem like too much, but it makes a big difference. I'm personally very happy we have an extra year to prepare._

Harry almost snorted aloud. Like Gabrielle would need to worry about exam scores. She was in her fourth year and would probably earn straight O's across the board if she took them today. At least in practical classes. He hadn't seen her theory work, but he assumed based on her explanations and the like that it was very good.

Speaking of…

_You ask about the most random bits of magic, you know that? My friend, Sophie, and I actually laughed at this one. Not because it's easy to deal with or anything, don't feel embarrassed. It's just such an oddly specific question about such an obscure charm._

_Since Charms is my favourite subject though, I do have an answer, luckily for you._

_The doppelganger doesn't actually create a copy of yourself. That sort of magic is almost impossible for reasons that I really can't explain over a letter. The doppelganger charm is an illusion. The spells fired from the dummy won't even have any effects. Obviously, since both figures cast at you, it's not as if you can take the spells to test which is which, but I always find it helpful to understand how a spell actually works._

_Now, onto countering it. There are a couple of ways of doing it. The basis is that you need to disrupt the illusion, somehow. You need to make the person move or react in a way that the illusion can't. _

_Personally, I've always been pretty good with charms, like I've told you, and I have always had a knack for this specific charm. It also has the bonus of dramatic effect, so if your friend keeps beating you with that charm, this should be a good little shock. Just make sure not to overdo it. It would be a shame to see anybody get too badly hurt during a mock duel…_

* * *

_**Back in the present…**_

"VENTUS MAXIMUS!"

Harry would be lying if he said this spell had been easy to learn. It had actually been devilishly difficult. This was why only now, almost a month after receiving the letter, he was using it in an actual duel for the first time.

He could feel the pressure in the room change as all at once, the air warped and twisted, spinning faster and faster until a mini-tornado touched down near the duplicate Freds. One of them was effortlessly swept up by the tornado and spun forcefully around in the air whilst the other, the doppelganger, was unaffected by the wind. The rest of Harry's friends were unaffected because of the duelling wards in place, but they all watched in awe as Fred was thrown about like a rag doll.

Then, after a moment of enjoying his new found power over his older friend, Harry ceased toying with Fred and let him fall as he cancelled the charm. He hit the floor with a loud thud as the wind left his lungs. Before he could think, let alone move, the red-head had been disarmed by his younger, raven-haired counterpart for the first time, ending the duel.

Harry walked over to Fred to check on him before anybody else in the room reacted. "Are you alright?" he asked, worried he may have been injured from the fall as Harry tentatively offered him a hand.

Contrary to his fears, Fred, after getting his breath back, merely grinned up at Harry like a madman. A second later, he had taken his hand and pulled himself to his feet, grin still in place. "Alright? Harry, my fine fellow, I'm splendid! How could I be anything but? That was bloody brilliant!"

As all in the room began to laugh, Harry could not help but join in. This was what it was all about. No mysterious assailants, no hidden threats. Just him enjoying his two favourite things in the world.

Magic and those he truly cared about.

* * *

**Author's Endnote:**

**Long AN here but I encourage you to read it. I speak quite a bit about the process of going forward with this story.**

**A bit of a short chapter, but oh well. I don't foresee the last two chapters of the year being long either. **

**Speaking of which, next week will be the penultimate chapter of year two, and my goal is to get through May with that chapter.**

**Then June will happen in the year's final chapter, which will be a doozy, to say the least. After that, I will be taking a lengthy break from posting this story. I need to revise the early chapters at some point, which will only be done once I'm finished doing the same for my main story. I also just need a bit of a break from this. **

**The problem with year two is that I didn't pre-write as much as I should have, so I always felt intensely pressured to throw something together to meet my upload schedule. That's actually why I'm so far ahead in terms of what I have written compared to what I have posted for Ashes of Chaos. I learned my lesson through this fic. In light of that, I will be staying ahead in year three so a similar thing does not happen. That means on top of revising, taking a break from this fic and working on other projects, I won't be posting year three until I have a good chunk of it written. So, unfortunately, after chapter thirty-nine, you probably won't see any of year three's chapters until some time in the spring of 2021 or later.**

**I am sorry for the inconvenience, but I thought I would be upfront and honest about it. Trust me, I am super excited for year 3! I have so much planned that is going to be an absolute blast to write! There are just other things I need to do before we get there.**

**On that note, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I apologize for the long AN.**

**Stay safe and see you in two weeks!**

**Please read and review.**

**PS: The next chapter will be posted on Sunday, September 20th, 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST.**


	38. LOS Ch 23: The Planting of Seeds

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit. **

**Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. **

**Self-Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile. **

**In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Twitter ( ACI_100) by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works. You can do likewise to check out my official website.**

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Dark Lord's Equal**

**By ACI100**

**Year 2: The Looming of Shadows**

**Chapter 23: The Planting of Seeds**

* * *

_**May 8, 1993**_

_**The Quidditch Pitch**_

_**10:22 AM**_

Harry soared through the sky high above the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, black hair fanning out behind him like a lion's mane. Being back on a broomstick, playing a game he genuinely loved, was heaven on earth after the metaphorical hell he'd been forced to endure whilst Tom Riddle terrorized the school wearing Ginny Weasley's skin.

Speaking of, Ginny had returned to Hogwarts about a week ago. She was quiet and mostly isolated. Harry had considered approaching her on a number of occasions, but Merlin knew he was useless with emotions and the absolute last person who should be doing anything of the sort. Ron had been justifiably concerned, and he had been shooting both Harry and his younger sister what the red-head evidently thought to be covert glances for the better part of the week.

As disturbing as Ginny's problems were, they weren't what dominated Harry's thoughts as he swerved suddenly, dodging a rogue bludger in the process and snatching the quaffle out of the air. He didn't hold onto it for long. Just long enough to advance Gryffindor up the pitch, pass it off and go back to looking for the golden snitch.

Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff seeker, was exceptional at the position. Harry couldn't take him lightly, or the results would more than likely be disastrous. Cedric, as opposed to Harry, who frequently dove into the centre of chaos, stirring up the play and helping out his chasers, was a traditional seeker who rested firmly upon the foundations. His game wasn't flashy, but it was efficient. While Harry dove this way and that, being a menace at every available opportunity, Cedric sat back, circled high above, and waited for his opportunity.

Eventually, with the puffs trailing the lions by sixty points, that opportunity would present itself, as Cedric did indeed see the snitch before Harry. What followed was a death-defying race for the snitch where the two of them weaved through players, bludgers and goal posts until finally, after a thrilling, well-fought chase, Harry managed to outmaneuver Cedric, partially aided by his superior broom, cut him off and nab the snitch.

It felt so good to finally be the one in control. Harry could not help but let a euphoric grin spread across his face. This was what school and childhood were supposed to be. He knew it wouldn't last long, so he simply revelled in the feeling while he could, wondering when life would throw him his next, unexpected curveball.

* * *

_**May 12, 1993**_

_**The Gryffindor Common Room **_

_**7:43 PM**_

It was Wednesday night, and Harry was set to meet Daphne as normal. Over the year, he had gained a very strong foundation in Ancient Runes. So much so that he was currently looking into some basic wards to try on his own time. Tonight, they would be working on defence, in preparation for the fast-approaching end-of-year exams.

It was crazy to think the hectic year was finally coming to a close. There didn't seem to be any plots in place to kill him at the moment, and Harry had found the almost three months of respite to be somewhat disconcerting.

Of course, not everything was flowers and rainbows.

Ginny was still as sullen as ever, and there was the whole potential disaster of Sirius Black and his unjust trial. Augusta had been keeping him up to date with the goings-on revolving around that case, and rumours had begun to circulate through much of the Wizengamot about the case which was long thought to be cut and dry. Apparently, it had been Dumbledore who had started these rumours. At least, that was what Augusta thought. She had quietly encouraged them to those near her. According to her, Dumbledore was slowly trying to weaken the case against Black for the case to at least be re-examined. Augusta still wasn't optimistic, and she maintained her doubts that anything would turn up, but it was still at least a start.

Harry had very briefly toyed with the idea of asking Daphne to perhaps bring it up to her family, but then he realized exactly how terrible of an idea that would be. She would think he was off his rocker, and, more than likely, so would her family. He didn't really know their allegiances super well either. He knew they were neutral in the Wizengamot and had never been associated with Voldemort, but that was about the extent of his knowledge pertaining to the Greengrass family's political views.

Speaking of the Greengrass family, he was almost out the door of the common room, intent on not being late to that meeting when he noticed movement behind him. He realized, just as he was stepping out into the corridor that Ron was following him, hot on his heels.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Hey, mate. What's up?"

Ron looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Can I talk to you?"

Harry frowned. "Um… now really isn't the best time. I'm on my way to something that I'd really rather not be late for. How important is it?"

"It's about Ginny."

Ah… that could potentially be a long conversation. The problematic thing about it was that Harry wasn't completely sure whether or not he should tell Ron. On one hand, it was his sister. He knew that she had been controlled by the Heir of Slytherin, but he didn't know the details or to what extent Tom Riddle's evil had stretched. Hell, none of them knew that. Perhaps Ginny's mind healers, the ones that Dumbledore himself had helped pay for, but even they had admitted it was a unique case. They'd never seen anything like it, and it was pretty much impossible to predict exactly how far Tom Riddle's influence had extended into Ginny's mind and possibly beyond. They were certain, at the very least, according to Dumbledore, that the experience would leave unnatural scars on Ginny's psyche.

Harry sighed. "That might not be a short conversation."

Ron frowned. "Where do you have to be? You're usually just practicing tonight, aren't you?"

'Oh, bollocks!'

That was the common excuse he gave whenever he slipped off to meet with Daphne. He was going to have to think on the fly and do it very quickly.

"I'm meeting McGonagall," he lied, hoping the firm grip he had on his emotions would prevent any obvious signs from showing on his face. Snape hadn't just been teaching him to defend his mind. He had been teaching him to master and modulate his emotions. They spent far less time discussing things than he and Dumbledore, so they had more time to work. Snape said that mastering his emotions was as important as defending his mind. It would help with the latter process, for one, and it had a nearly infinite number of implications in a variety of fields. Politics, battle, one's own self-esteem and mental health…

"About what?" Ron asked.

"I'm asking her about some extra credit stuff before the exam."

Ron scoffed. "The hell do you need extra credit for?"

Harry shrugged. "Never too much of a good thing, I guess."

Ron sighed, suddenly looking exhausted. "You know what's up with Ginny though."

Harry tensed. "I… no, not really."

"What?"

"I know what I think might be causing it, but I have no idea what exactly is bothering her. And me knowing doesn't really make me any better suited to help her. I have no idea how I would even approach it."

"Can you at least tell me?"

Harry paused. "If your sister wants you to know."

"Harry, listen-"

"No, Ron, you listen. Your sister has been through hell this year. If she wants to share it, that's her problem. If not, then that's her decision." Harry was pretty sure he could convince Ginny to let Ron in on what had happened if he so chose. More than anything, he wanted Dumbledore's input on the matter.

Ron sighed. "Fine, but work that out in a hurry, will you? I'm… I'm worried, Harry."

Harry had never seen Ron look at him so imploringly in all of his life. The vulnerability in his eyes was something else altogether. They had barely discussed the night everything had happened since it had occurred, let alone all of the occurrences leading up to it. Ron hadn't had it easy either. He'd been placed under the Imperius curse, tortured and impersonated all at different points during the ongoing schemes of Tom Riddle. Harry thought it was a show of a rather remarkable character that he was putting all of that aside and not even addressing it in favour of asking about his little sister.

"I will, Ron. I promise."

And he meant it.

* * *

Daphne wasn't overly pleased when Harry entered late, but she didn't kick up a massive fit, either. Probably because he would be playing instructor tonight, and she probably thought that annoying him wasn't in her best interests. That and the fact that Daphne was exceptionally good at reading people. She could tell that whatever had kept Harry, it was serious. It had put him into a rather dark, contemplative mood. It wasn't one she wanted to disrupt.

As the "lesson" progressed, his demeanour softened and became one Daphne was far more familiar with. Harry truly did love magic. It was a wonder what something as simple as discussing magic could do for his soul. By the time they had completed their study session, he had practically forgotten all about the troubling conversation with Ron before this meeting with Daphne.

Seeing that his mood had raised significantly, Daphne asked a tentative question, a question that had been bothering her for some time now. "Harry?"

"Daphne?"

"When did you start hanging around with Patil?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Parvati… hmm, November or December, maybe? I don't really remember. Sometime between our match against Slytherin and the Christmas break. Why?"

Daphne pursed her lips. "You don't find it odd how she suddenly started talking to you from out of the blue?"

Harry shrugged. "I never really thought much about it."

"Do you usually talk about anything specific?"

"Not really." Harry studied Daphne, realizing that she was looking rather serious. "What is this about, Daphne?"

"Can I be completely honest with you and have you not get upset with me?"

That was a particularly ominous question that Harry had not been expecting. "Um… sure, I guess."

"I think she's using you."

Harry blinked. "How? We haven't even talked about anything important."

"Not yet, maybe, but you haven't exactly been talking for long. If she was going to talk with you about anything important, she would want to make sure she knew she could trust you first. She would want to make sure that the friendship had strong foundations. That way, if you did get suspicious, she could backtrack with no issues."

Harry frowned. That seemed like a harshly clinical evaluation that he wasn't at all sure he agreed with. He and Parvati made mostly innocuous, scattered conversation when they did talk at all. It was rare they even spoke for more than a few minutes at a time.

"Is there any point to you that stands out?" Daphne asked him. "Any point where the relationship took an unnaturally large leap forward?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer in the negative but paused. Her Christmas present had been rather extravagant. He could remember thinking that at the time, it had been a bit of an overextension. But was an expensive Christmas present really enough to be suspicious of her motives?

"Daphne, I don't mean to offend you or anything, but are you sure you're not overthinking this? I know you said Slytherins pretty much live off of mind games, but not all of us do that."

Daphne's stare could have put a stop to a volcano in mid-eruption. "That's how politics work, Harry. The Patils are a very rich family in India that specialize in trade. If they wanted to establish roots in Britain, earning the favour of the Boy-Who-Lived would be a pretty good way of doing it. You do see that, don't you?"

He reluctantly nodded. He could see where she was coming from, even if he thought she was wrong. In his opinion, she was absolutely overthinking it. "I'll keep it in mind," he told her, but Daphne immediately knew such things weren't true.

When Harry left the classroom sometime later, Daphne followed, disillusioned via the enchantments on her family ring. Last time she'd done this, she had stumbled across Harry and Parvati chatting on the way back to the common room. After observing her friend during that last conversation, she knew that something more substantial was going to be needed.

And it appeared that she was in luck.

Once again, she stumbled across, who else, but Parvati Patil, striking up a conversation with Harry before, this time, they split in opposite directions. Without hesitating, Daphne followed Patil. She walked behind her for some time. Eventually, she followed Patil through what she thought may have been a set of wards and into an abandoned classroom. Thankfully, the wards in question were only geared towards privacy and not detection. Parvati wasn't alone in the room.

"Parvati," her Ravenclaw sister greeted her. "How'd it go?"

Parvati shrugged. "It was uneventful. We didn't really talk about much. Just the final Quidditch match coming up against you guys."

"Which you're going to lose, by the way."

Parvati scoffed. "No chance, we have Harry. He'll get the snitch before you guys even have a hundred points. Chang is good, but if he beat Diggory…"

Padma sighed. "Yes, you're probably right," she admitted. "But anyway, that's not what we're here for."

"What are we here for? Other than the obvious, I mean." Daphne's ears perked up. This was what she had come for, whatever was about to be said next. She could feel it. She had no doubts.

"Father wrote me this morning. He wanted a progress update on Potter."

Parvati sighed. "As I said, uneventful. We're friends, but not much more than that."

Padma bit her lip. "You know that won't do, Parvati. You need to do this by the end of the year. We need to be well established by the end of next year, which means we need our in ASAP!"

"It's not easy, Padma. I'm trying, but he doesn't trust people very easily and he doesn't really have free time. He's either with his friends or out of the common room doing Merlin only knows what."

There was a long beat of silence. "I know that, Parvati," Padma said consolingly. "The problem is, Father doesn't want to hear it. He's insistent you scoop up Potter by the end of the year. You need to speed things along, take risks if you have to."

Parvati sighed. "After exams," she promised. "I'll try and get closer to him until then, and after they're over, I'll make my move."

Padma nodded. "That should be acceptable."

Daphne had heard enough. She tuned out the babble of their conversation and waited for them to conclude and leave so she could follow them out the door. It had confirmed her worst fears.

The Patils were planning something. Something devious involving one of her best friends. Whatever it was, Daphne was going to put a stop to it.

* * *

_**May 14, 1993**_

_**The Room of Requirement**_

_**9:23 PM**_

Harry sidestepped a beam of red light, rolled under a white bolt and came back up to his feet. With a swish of his wand, a flock of ravens sailed from its tip, flying towards the ancient wizard standing before him. Dumbledore flicked his own wand and suddenly, the birds were not made of flesh and bone, but of pure fire. They soared back towards Harry and he paused, not entirely sure what to do except conjure water. Then, something else came to him.

"Ventus Maximus!"

A tornado leapt to his defence, quickly consuming the fire and spinning it round and round, causing a reddish blur to tint the twister that towered terrifyingly tall over the two figures below.

Dumbledore took the time to quirk an eyebrow, very obviously impressed. As Harry willed the tornado to surge towards the Headmaster, Dumbledore waved his wand, and suddenly, the tornado was encased in layers of solid rock. It began to rip through but every time it did, Dumbledore would reconjure what had been broken. The speed of his transfigurations and their solidity had Harry awed, especially because Dumbledore was fending off Harry's other attacks almost absentmindedly while keeping this up. Seconds later, Dumbledore had disarmed him, and the duel came to a close.

"You are improving greatly," Dumbledore complimented. "The rate at which you have learned and progressed through the conjuration of animate birds is very impressive. You very obviously have an innate talent for the art. Now, we simply need to increase your versatility."

Harry nodded eagerly. "What's next then, sir?"

Dumbledore scratched his beard thoughtfully. "An interesting question. I suppose arrows may be adequate. They are a step up in scale, but lesser so in complexity. I would like to begin you down the path of conjuring objects to weaponize or use as a defence. By the end of the year, I would like for you to be able to conjure a protective wall of stone. It is not a difficult conjuration. The difficult part is conjuring so much of it and having it meld seamlessly together."

"So what's the incantation for arrows, sir?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I think we have done enough for tonight. The incantation is Sagita and the wand movement is an outwards sweep towards your opponent. We will eventually be looking to eliminate wand movements from your casting, but that will happen once you have a much more diverse arsenal to work with."

Harry nodded. "Sir, I was wondering if I could ask you something before we end this?"

"You can ask me anything, Harry."

"Ron asked me about Ginny the other day."

"Ah," Dumbledore mused with a slow nod and a deep sigh. "Yes, I suppose that is not unexpected. I assume then that you would like to ask whether or not I think answering his questions is wise?"

"Yes, sir. It's just… I never told him and Dean about the end of last year either. The only one that knows what actually happened is Neville. I'm worried that if I tell Ron this, he'll start asking questions about that."

"And precisely why does this worry you, Harry?"

"Sir?"

"What is so detrimental about Messrs Weasley and Thomas learning the events of your first year?"

Harry seriously had to ponder that question. "I… the information could spread. You said it yourself, didn't you? We can't let the public know that Voldemort is alive. We would lose too many advantages. If I tell them, it could leak." He paused, speaking next in a softer, quieter tone of voice. "That's why you had to memory charm Hermione."

Dumbledore suddenly looked ancient once more. "Miss Granger was a slightly different case than your friends. She is too clever and too curious. If her curiosity was to manifest itself into a full-blown investigation, it would cause a great deal of problems. Your friends are easier to predict, and they are close to you. Any information they do receive is information you will know about." Dumbledore paused, seeming to choose his next words very carefully. "Do you trust them, Harry?" Harry nodded. "Then why is it you worry so?"

"Well… they could let it slip, or something…"

"May I inform you of the true reason you have yet to tell them of your more closely guarded secrets?" Harry nodded once more, though he did so far more tentatively this time. He had no idea what Dumbledore was getting at. "You grew up isolated and alone, Harry. You grew up in an environment that harboured secrets. An environment in which you were safer to keep secrets. Beyond that, you never had anybody you felt as though you could trust until you met Neville and Augusta Longbottom the summer before you began attending Hogwarts. Those years leave scars, Harry. You are never going to trust as easily as I, or many others who trust less than me. It will never be natural, but sometimes it is necessary."

"Sir?"

"A war is coming, Harry. There is no reason to hide the truth from you, for you know it as surely as I. Lord Voldemort will one day return. I do not believe this to be a distant reality, but one far closer than either of us would like. No matter how prodigious you might be, no matter how ready you shall be when the time comes, it will not be enough on its own. The man does not make the army. It is the army that makes the man. You cannot fight a war alone, let alone win a war. It is those people closest to you who will hold you up and keep you safe and steady in times of great peril. But for that to happen, you need to build true bridges of unbreakable trust. To do so, you must open up.

"A relationship is give and take. I do not simply mean they give you friendship in exchange for help with magic. Relationships are built on intimate foundations. Foundations that will weaken if they are not continually updated."

"So you think I should tell them everything?"

"I think you should tell them about what happened down in the Chamber of Secrets. It is a good start." He paused. "Perhaps inform them of your suspicions about Sirius Black as well. It is not such a major secret by comparison to the survival of Lord Voldemort, and if Ronald plants that seed in his family's minds, it may not be a bad thing either. For now, you are more than welcome to keep secret the fact that Voldemort lives on. Just know that one day, preferably sooner than later, the time will come when that secret must be told, and that is not only okay, but it is a great and beautiful thing."

Harry nodded slowly. "I should talk to Ginny first," he thought aloud.

"You should indeed," Dumbledore agreed, gesturing for Harry to follow him out of the room. "Do check up on her as well, will you? What Tom did to her was both unique and unpleasant. I worry for her mental health and would appreciate it a great deal if you kept an eye on her. I am sure your friend Ronald would not be opposed either."

Harry nodded resolutely. "I will, sir. Don't worry."

* * *

_**May 15, 1993**_

_**The Gryffindor Common Room**_

_**7:43 AM**_

Harry had known for some time that Ginny was an early riser. She had been so at the Burrow, even before she had ever touched Tom Riddle's cursed diary. It was this surety that had him waiting in the common room the morning after his conversation with Dumbledore, ready for several long chats that day.

Sure enough, she was one of the first students to exit her dormitory. She looked awful. Her face was blank but her eyes were hollow and slightly red. She had evidently not slept well, and Harry thought she may have been crying not that long ago.

"Morning, Ginny."

She flinched horribly, whirling around as her hand twitched towards her wand. "Oh, Harry, don't do that! Merlin, I thought I was going to be attacked!"

"Sorry," he apologized sheepishly, eyeing her critically. "I was wondering if you wanted to come for a walk?"

Ginny seemed to hesitate before accepting with visible reluctance, following him out of the common room and down the corridor. Harry was taking a calculated risk here, but he was fairly sure it would pay off. The two of them exchanged almost no words at all until Harry came to a very familiar stretch of wall and summoned a door that hadn't been there moments earlier.

Ginny's eyes widened. "How did you do that?"

"You walk back and forth in front of this stretch of wall and think of whatever you want the room to be. Fair warning, it can't do food or living things at all, I don't think. And I doubt it works with somebody else inside, but I've never tried." Ginny just nodded quietly and followed him inside. The interior of the room was an exact replica of the Burrow's kitchen, for the most part. The differences were that there was more space and that the chairs were a fair bit more comfortable.

When the two of them took seats, Harry suddenly realized how woefully unprepared he was for this conversation. He was useless with emotions. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Then, he remembered that he had never thought such utter nonsense. He had always known this to be a terrible idea, but it was necessary, at least from a moral standpoint.

Damnit! Being a good person was hard sometimes.

"You're going to ask me how I am, aren't you?"

"I'm guessing you've got that a lot."

"Yes, I have."

"And what have you told them?"

"That I'm fine. The mind healers said as much."

"And what is the actual answer?"

"I… what?"

"Ginny, the mind healers have never seen anything like what happened to you because it never happened before this."

"But they still know their field," she argued. "Surely they would be able to make a decent guess?" Harry seemed to hesitate and Ginny's eyes narrowed. "What is it? I can tell you're hiding something. I can feel it."

That was scarily familiar. "What do you mean by 'feel it'?"

"I… it's hard to explain."

"As in, you feel a slight nudge in your mind? You can just tell? Sense it?" She nodded. "This isn't the first time this has happened either, is it?" She shook her head. He sighed. "Ginny, I have no idea how to prove this, and there's a chance I'm wrong, but I think there was a lot more going on with that diary than anyone except for maybe Dumbledore realized."

"W-what do you mean?"

He hesitated. "Do you know what the diary's actual plan was?"

She shivered. "I can remember a lot of things, Harry." Harry's heart almost broke at that statement. Her voice shook with regret and worry. "Not all of it, but some. I… can remember him in my head, guiding me through things. I can remember the first time he took over my body. I can remember all the time he made me spend in the Chamber of Secrets practicing the Imperius Curse. I can remember exactly what he was planning. He wanted to drain the life out of me and use it for himself."

"That's not mind magic, Ginny. Do you know what Occlumency and Legilimency are?" She nodded. Harry assumed that Riddle had forced her to learn at least the former, and the latter seemed close to what she described. He had wondered for some time whether or not he may have some natural aptitude for Legilimency because of a similar thing happening. Sometimes, he could tell if people were lying. Deductions slid into lace too easily in his mind, too. He knew Voldemort had a great affinity for the art, so if Ginny suddenly had this occurring after the teenage Dark Lord had roamed around in her mind for a year, he thought it likely true.

"I've studied both of them," he told her. "More Occlumency, but I have read about Legilimency. You can't do that with Legilimency. And a memory shouldn't be able to take over your body. Manipulate your mind with Legilimency, maybe. Take over your body? Gain a physical form?" He shook his head. "Again, I could be wrong, but I really don't think that's how it works."

Ginny shivered. "I know." It was barely more than a whisper. "It also doesn't make sense. I can remember the times he played around in my head. I can remember all the spells he taught me that way. But… I don't remember anything from when he actually took over my body. I don't remember much after the start of February at all."

Harry nodded. "You know what I'm saying then?"

She nodded and shivered once more. "You think it's more than mind magic. You think other things could be making it worse." He nodded stoically. "Do you know what they are?" Ginny asked him imploringly, looking up with wide, scared brown eyes.

Harry shook his head. "I have no idea," he admitted, and his heart broke once more as he saw the look of hope torn painfully from her eyes. "I'm going to find out though," he vowed. "I don't think Dumbledore wants me to know for whatever reason. He tells me pretty much everything, but he hasn't told me anything about this. Maybe it's dangerous, or maybe he just wants me to work it out on my own. I'm not sure. But I am going to figure it out. I'm going to help you."

Ginny looked baffled. "What if it's dangerous? If he doesn't want you to know, he must have a good reason. What if looking into it isn't a good idea?"

"I don't care. We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"But… why? Why take the risk?"

Part of that answer was genuine curiosity and the need for knowledge. If it was something Voldemort was capable of, Harry had to know about it. It was just that simple. But there was far more to it than that.

"Because you need to figure it out. Obviously, the mind healers don't know about it, and Dumbledore isn't telling. I see what it's doing to you, Ginny. I never knew you well, but I knew you a bit before the diary got its claws into you. I know what you're like, and these last two weeks hasn't been it. You're too quiet, too drawn in. And I can see you're not sleeping." He paused. "I know how horrible nightmares can be. I know what brings mine on, and if you went through anything similar to that, you need to be helped."

"But… why would you want to help me?"

Harry frowned. "Er… what?"

"Why would you want to help me? It was my stupid idea to talk to the diary that almost got you-"

"It wasn't stupid." His voice was more forceful than Ginny had ever heard it. She actually flinched, falling silent at once. "Ginny, this is Voldemort we're talking about. Sixteen or not, he's the greatest Dark Lord to ever live. There's no way you could have known that. There's no way you could have predicted what happened. It's not your fault, and now you're suffering. You're my best friend's sister and it's not right." He smiled. "I also like to think we get along pretty well. Is it so wrong for me to want to help a friend?"

She looked completely incredulous, lost for words altogether. Harry gave her a few moments to compose herself before asking his next question. "Can I tell your brother what happened in the Chamber of Secrets? Dean too? I trust both of them. They won't tell anybody, but I understand if you don't want-"

"No," Ginny cut across him, fire in her eyes. "No, it's okay. You can tell them. I'm… I'm not afraid of them knowing." That was a blatant lie, but if Harry was diving head-first into danger on her behalf, it was the least she could do in return if he wanted to tell them.

Harry smiled. "Thank you, Ginny. You have no idea how important that answer might be."

* * *

_**Several hours later, back in the Room of Requirement…**_

To say that Ron and Dean had been gobsmacked by the details pertaining to the Chamber of Secrets would be like saying Dumbledore was decent at magic. What seemed to surprise them even more, at least in the case of Ron, were Harry's suspicions about Sirius Black. Ron, having been raised on the notion that he was one of the most evil wizards alive, took a fair bit of convincing before he would even hear Harry's story. By the time it had concluded, he still seemed skeptical, if slightly more believing. Dean seemed more open-minded about the whole thing, but an air of tension definitely clung to the youngest member of House Weasley.

Even the rat in his pocket gave a small, unnoticeable twitch as its tiny eyes widened.

* * *

**Author's Endnote:**

**And there it is! The penultimate chapter of DLE's second year is now in the books, and I'm actually rather happy with it, even though it is very short.**

**I'm really sorry it's a week late, but this just wasn't happening last week. I tried over a dozen times to write this chapter but just couldn't do it. My mind is too focused on Ashes of Chaos nowadays, and it's rather hard getting in the mindset for this right after writing that. Thankfully, given some time, I can still enjoy writing this fic. Dumbledore in particular is a treat to write. **

**Unfortunately, as many times as I tried last week, I just wasn't happy with what was happening. It wasn't up to my normal standards, so I didn't want to post it. It's as simple as that. I would rather miss an update than post something I'm unhappy with. You all deserve the best chapters I can put out. Not some rushed, sloppy attempt due to a self-imposed obligation.**

**With that in mind, I am targeting October 11th as the release date for the year 2 finale. It may end up being October 18th, but I will do my best to try and get this to you in two weeks.**

**Please read and review.**


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